


Dr. Harkness & Nurse Jones

by blue_fjords



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Romance Novel, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-01
Updated: 2012-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 11:22:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 64,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_fjords/pseuds/blue_fjords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Harlequin Romance featuring the adventures of Dr. Jack Harkness and Nurse Ianto Jones as they travel the globe working for the Rose Tyler Foundation.  They must overcome many obstacles, including themselves, to stay together.  Love, of course, will triumph.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dr. Harkness & Nurse Jones

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for The Stopwatch way back in 2008, then added to piecemeal since then, finally finishing in 2011. The 11th Doctor is in this, but is in no way based on the real 11th Doctor, as I wrote this before he was even cast. Be forewarned, there are political and religious views in this thing, but written as a romance novel. There's only one canon death that makes it into this, of a supporting character.

Chapter One:  
KENYA

Ianto Jones adjusted his collar, feeling the string of his pouch under his shirt for the hundredth time. His hands were beyond sweaty, and he shifted his bag from the left to the right and back again in order to surreptitiously wipe them off one at a time on his khaki shorts.

"Ianto? Ianto!" 

A human cannonball, all dark hair and gap-toothed smile, collided into him, wrapping him in as much of a bear hug as the tiny woman could give.

"Pleased to see you, too, Gwen," he said with a slight smile, patting the head of the woman who clung to his waist.

Grinning, Gwen released him and looked up at his eyes. "I am so happy to see you. You are going to love it here, baby brother; I promise!"

"Yes, well, the sun's a welcome change." Ianto reached down to grab the two computer bags, his duffel, and the strap he had rigged up to the larger of the two boxes of medical supplies. Gwen grabbed the other strap and the bag of gifts he had bought especially for her.

Gwen kept up a steady stream of chatter, peppered with questions about his flight, getting through Customs, and guesses about her presents. Ianto listened with one half of his mind, eyes continuously lighting on new things. Gwen led him back outside, where the sun worked to bleach all color from their surroundings, leaving a dusky golden haze on everything. Ianto kept his eyes peeled for wildlife. He had tried to memorize a book on African wildlife before leaving Cardiff, and had already decided which animals he would most like to see. He had also successfully memorized the names and markings of all of the snakes that could be found in this area. It was a long list. As he walked with his sister to a small bush plane, however, the only animals he saw were a couple of goats tethered off the runway.

"Okay, Ianto duckling, help me wrestle these in and be sure to buckle up!" Gwen gestured down to her box, and Ianto obligingly set his own down before helping her hoist first her box, and then his into the small plane. 

"How long does it take to get there?" Ianto asked, stifling a yawn.

"Oh, a bit. We're flying into Lodwar, and then we'll have to take a jeep. There's an Anglican priest in Lodwar – he'll let us take his jeep, no problem."

It wasn't long before they left Jomo Kenyatta International Airport behind. Ianto peered eagerly out his window. The Great Rift Valley stretched out below them, peppered with small lakes and large expanses of shrub-covered grasslands. He could see a large herd of what he guessed were Thomson's gazelle, and there were some zebra, as well. The gazelles started running and leaping as the plane flew over. Their beauty and gracefulness were apparent even from up in the air. For the first time since arriving in Africa, Ianto started to relax. This trip was going to be good for him. The leaping gazelles symbolized freedom and joie de vivre. Ianto could feel himself chucking off the depression that had threatened to engulf him since his fiancée, Lisa, had passed away almost a year ago. Thankfully, they left the gazelles behind before he could see the cheetah pounce and rip out the jugular of one of the gazelles – he may have felt a different premonition then.

Gwen and Ianto started talking soon after about Cardiff and the hospital (Ianto) and the staff at Torched Wood and quirks of living in Kenya (Gwen), and kept it up until they were circling to land on a small airstrip outside of Lodwar. Lodwar was tiny, and more along the lines of the stereotypes Ianto had of African cities, unlike the bustle and modernization apparent in Nairobi. They were met at the airstrip by the Anglican priest with the jeep Gwen had mentioned. "Father Rhys," she called him, and kissed his cheek affectionately. Though Rhys tried to hide it, Ianto could see from the way the Father looked at his sister that if she had asked him for the moon in addition to the jeep, he would have found some way to give it to her. Gwen seemed to have that effect on men.

They transferred their bags to the jeep, along with some supplies Father Rhys gave them, and took off for Torched Wood, Gwen at the wheel. Ianto's eyelids were struggling to stay open. He had been traveling for more than a day and dusk was rapidly setting in. Gwen shook him awake when they pulled up to the security gate at Torched Wood. Ianto looked blearily around.

"Ianto, duckling, this is Mickey Smith," she gestured to the compact black man holding an uzi at the gate, "and we're here."

Mickey and his uzi gave them a nod, and with a word of greeting to Gwen, closed the gate behind them. Gwen drove in and parked outside a garage. They appeared to be in a courtyard, with three other buildings in addition to the garage along the walls of the compound. Ianto couldn't really make out details, but looked forward to exploring tomorrow. They unloaded the jeep and then Gwen brought him into the building directly opposite the gate, which housed the sleeping quarters of the clinic staff. The beds were divided by curtains hanging from the ceiling. Gwen brought him to an empty partition and whispered to him that Owen (Ianto remembered her mentioning him before – Ianto was of the opinion that he was bad news for Gwen) had told her to settle Ianto in for the night when they got there, and the other nurse would show him around the facilities the next day. Ianto nodded.

"I'm so glad you're here!" Gwen threw her arms around his waist again. This was more hugging than the siblings usually engaged in, but Ianto found that he didn't mind so much under the circumstances. He had missed his sister, and the past year had been hard on him and rather devoid of close human contact. 

Gwen had to take the jeep back since she had an early morning flight, so after exchanging one last round of hugs and promising to be back in one week with food and supplies, Gwen was off. Ianto took one of his uniforms out of his duffel and hung it up by his bed for tomorrow. The rest of the unpacking could wait until morning. He fell into an exhausted sleep in less than two minutes.

Ianto woke up at 4:00 AM for his first day of work at Torched Wood Medical Center. All things considered, the jet lag could have been worse. He washed up, being careful to dole out only a small portion of water, and pulled on his nurse's uniform. Gwen had laughed when Ianto told her what he had packed to wear to work, but Ianto knew better. He was the type to take comfort in the familiarity of routine. Clothes may just be clothes, but his uniform was like both armor and a security blanket. He knew he would need them if he was going to be of use in such an unfamiliar environment. Straightening his collar, Ianto took a deep breath, and left the living quarters to meet his new workmates.

The sun was a dusky smudge over the savannah. Its light was just beginning to illuminate the ruins of the village on the outskirts of the Torched Wood compound. Ianto could hear the calls of animals that he didn't recognize yet, but hoped to soon. The air was completely still, and dust soon coated Ianto's uniform and shoes. There was a smell that permeated the compound, partly of disinfectant from the surgery bay, partly of grass and dust from the savannah, and partly of burnt wood, even two years after the torching of the village.

Ianto pushed open the door to the "Medical" building of the Torched Wood Medical Center. It was divided into two sections: examination rooms formed by curtains on the left, operating theater on the right. A desk in the middle acted as triage, and all of the supplies were stocked neatly into shelves behind the triage desk, serving as a wall between the two sections. Ianto walked slowly through the building. A door in the back led to a staff washroom, and another door led to an enclosed corridor connecting the building to an adjoining structure, which held the rooms for overnight patients. When he had arrived last night, he had mistaken them for being one complete building. Ianto opened the door at the end of the corridor, accidentally smacking a middle-aged woman in the face as she reached for the door from the other end.

"So sorry!" Ianto gasped. "Are you all right?"

The woman gingerly felt her nose, and smiled up at Ianto. "Nothing broken. You must be Ianto, I was just on my way back over to the Hub to show you around. Sarah Jane Smith. I'm the other nurse here," she held out her hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, ma'am," said Ianto, shaking her hand and blushing. 

_Smooth, Jones, really dashing of you. Maybe later you can give her a paper cut and pour lemon juice on it_ , he thought to himself, chagrined.

"Don't worry about it at all; it's a terrible design. Let me show you around."

Ianto smiled and offered Nurse Smith his arm.

In the next two hours, Ianto learned the following helpful information about the Torched Wood Medical Center:

One, Sarah Jane Smith was a smiler. Ianto had seldom met anyone with such a naturally sunny disposition.

Two, each building had a name. The Hub was where they did "the healing" (Sarah Jane's words) and the Spoke was where they did "the recovering" (Sarah Jane again). Apparently, the original builders had meant to put in other spokes, but they had run out of "funding and gumption" (Sarah Jane, naturally). The staff quarters were called the cells. Sarah Jane had not named them. That was done by Drs. Harkness and Harper, she informed him with a sigh. The garage and guard post were called, respectively, the garage and guard post. All of the buildings were connected by a series of tunnels. 

Three, the staff consisted of three doctors, two nurses, one guard, and one local translator/community liaison. Ianto's sister Gwen flew in once every two weeks. She usually brought Father Williams with her to do a service for the patients and the villagers in Momba. Every few months they were visited by Dr. Toshiko Sato and her assistant, Ms. Noble. Dr. Sato ran all of the charity hospitals in Africa operated by the Rose Tyler Legacy Memorial Charitable Foundation. Ianto blinked at hearing the full name of the foundation he was volunteering with for the next few months. It was listed as the Tyler Foundation on all of his paperwork, and no wonder with a name like that . . .

Four, Dr. Harkness was the most charming man in the world. Ianto noticed that each time Nurse Smith said his name, even if she sounded exasperated, she blushed slightly and patted her hair. Gwen had had a similar reaction when she was trying to convince Ianto to join her in Africa. Apparently Dr. Harkness was catnip to women. (However, Ianto knew for a fact that it was Dr. Harper with whom Gwen had carried on a short-term fling. He could read her like a book.) Nurse Smith, all girlish gushing when speaking of Dr. Harkness, had none of the same for Dr. Harper.

Five, both the security guard, one Mickey Smith (no relation), and Dr. Harkness had actually known the Rose Tyler of the Rose Tyler Legacy Memorial Charitable Foundation. As such, one should demonstrate tact and not bring her up in conversation. When referring to the Rose Tyler Legacy Memorial Charitable Foundation, one should simply say "the Foundation."

Six, Dr. Jones, the third doctor, shared his surname. Ianto waited for more insight into her character (after all, half of his mates from uni also shared his surname), but Nurse Smith didn't know her all that well yet. Dr. Jones had only arrived two weeks before Ianto. She was an old friend of Dr. Harkness, and had worked with him at a charity hospital in Serbia several years ago when she was a medical student. "A lovely young lady," Nurse Smith pronounced her.

Seven, Mickey Smith, the guard, talked a mean talk, but he was "an absolute doll," beamed Nurse Smith. Ianto raised a brow at that. He had a vague recollection of a short, well-built black man with a harsh accent and coarse laugh from last night. _A doll? Maybe an action figure._

By that time it was almost 7:00 AM and already starting to get incredibly hot. A dust cloud was approaching the compound from the north.

"Oh, brilliant! Mgumbe is here. Mgumbe is our translator and liaison," Sarah Jane continued, turning to face Ianto. "He's a sweetheart."

Mgumbe's truck stopped at the outer wall, and then the doors slid open on their mechanical runners. Mgumbe waved to Sarah Jane and Ianto, and she enthusiastically waved back. He cut the engine as Sarah Jane and Ianto approached him.

"Oi!" Mgumbe called. _They say ‘oi' in Africa?_ Ianto wondered, startled. "Nurse Smith, how spiffing to see you on this fine winter's morning!"

_‘Spiffing?' What the hell?_

"Oh, Mgumbe, you've been getting lessons from Dr. Harper again, haven't you?" Sarah Jane giggled up at him. "I am just wonderful, Mgumbe, just wonderful. I want you to meet the newest member of our staff family. This is Gwen Cooper's younger brother, Nurse Ianto Jones," she motioned Ianto forward. 

"You're a little on the early side today."

"Ah, the little brother! Nurse Jones, it is a pleasure, a pleasure." Mgumbe's face split into a wide grin as he took both of Ianto's hands in his and half-bowed over them.

"It's nice to meet you," Ianto responded.

"Nurse Smith, I was wondering if someone might accompany me about a kilometer up the road? There is a refugee family. They didn't want to come into the facility itself, but if we went to them, they may accept some small medical care."

The door from the cells banged open, emitting three people in mid-conversation.

"You lot don't have a fucking clue, alright? That bird adored me –" That was the shorter of the two men. He had a thick London accent and a cocky way of walking.

"Oh, leave off, Owen, she only wanted a couple of drinks. Men!" That was the woman. She was rather attractive and had a similar accent to the first man.

"Now you don't know that for a fact, Martha." This from the taller man, in an American accent. _Must be the charming Dr. Harkness_ , Ianto thought.

"Thank you, Jack."

"After all, some women can't resist the allure of scrawny, foul-mouthed British doctors."

Martha laughed gaily, Owen scowled, and Jack slung his arm around Owen's shoulders to show that he meant no harm by it. Jack caught sight of Sarah Jane and the two men by the garage, and his smile widened. Ianto felt a little blinded by the light of American dental care.

"Sarah Jane, Mgumbe! Who is our guest?"

Sarah Jane beamed up at him. "This is our new nurse, like I promised."

Owen looked a bit discomfited. "You're Gwen's little brother, then? Nurse Cooper?"

"Jones, Ianto Jones." Ianto extended his hand.

Martha shook it and smiled warmly. "I'm a Jones, too. Small world, yeah? My name's Martha."

"Owen Harper," Owen mumbled, giving Ianto's hand a peremptory shake. Ianto could tell that Owen had not expected him to have such an advantage in both height and bulk. Ianto gave him a smile that clearly said: _Yes, I know what you did with my sister and that can stop now, thank you very much, or else you're about to get a whole lot shorter._ Owen's answering grimace clearly said: _Fuck you, but okay._

Ianto turned to Dr. Harkness.

"Welcome to Torched Wood, Jones Ianto Jones." The doctor took Ianto's hand in both of his and turned the full force of his smile on him. Ianto's heart took a stuttering half-step. He was vaguely aware of Mgumbe talking next to him. With a supreme effort he withdrew his hand from Jacks' and turned his attention to the interpreter. Who was done talking, of course.

"I'll go with you, Mgumbe. We'll take Nurse Jones here with us, give him a chance to see the world outside the compound," Jack answered.

Ianto nodded. They must be going to see the refugee family that didn't want to come into Torched Wood. _You're a sharp one, aren't you? Better get your head in the game, Jones,_ Ianto thought to himself.

"There are two fully stocked med kits in the truck, Ianto. Enjoy the scenery!" Sarah Jane smiled at him once more before linking arms with Martha and crossing the courtyard to the Spoke.

"Make sure Newbie here doesn't step on anything poisonous, Jack, or Gwen'll castrate you."

"Lovely imagery as usual, Owen." Jack and Owen exchanged grins.

Mgumbe leaned out the window of the truck. "Is the farewell ritual completed?"

"Not quite yet." Owen strode over to his side of the truck and went through a complicated series of fist bumps with Mgumbe. "Now you're good. Get out of here."

"Brilliant!" Mgumbe turned to Jack and Ianto expectantly.

"Right, I'll just get the middle then." Ianto struggled with where to put his legs. Mgumbe was young, and small, but it was an old-fashioned truck and he needed his full side of the cab to operate the gas, brakes and stickshift. Ianto and Jack were both big men with long legs. There really was no comfortable way for the three of them to sit in the cab of the truck. Ianto settled with sitting somewhat sideways, with his feet on Jack's side of the floor.

"I'm going to have to put my arm around you; that okay?" Jack flashed him another grin. Ianto wished he'd stop doing that. It was making it hard for him to concentrate.

"Better than an elbow in the face, Dr. Harkness," he managed.

Jack just laughed and settled comfortably back.

Mgumbe pointed out various landmarks and animals as they made their way up the road. They drove slowly to avoid bumps and potholes. On their left, way off in the distance, was a herd of some kind of antelope. Mgumbe said they were quite common in this area. On the right side of the road, a flock of birds moved through the grass, their beaks poking down in the search for insects. Everything was a dusky golden color. The only trees Ianto could make out were about a kilometer away on the right of the road.

It wasn't long before they overtook a group of nine people; a young woman, one elderly woman and an elderly man, and six boys and girls, ranging from about one month to eight years old. Mgumbe killed the ignition and they all slid out of the cab. Ianto stood uncertainly beside Dr. Harkness as Mgumbe addressed the refugees. He had done a fair bit of reading on the situation in this part of Kenya before he left Cardiff, and he had no idea why refugees would be headed back into Sudan. Yet here they were, making their way to the Sudanese border with what looked like at least three sprained ankles and sounded like at least four lung infections. The young woman seemed rather adamant that they would continue until Dr. Harkness stepped forward, flashing his kilowatt smile. He began to speak in halting Swahili, addressing the three adults and gesturing towards the children. Ianto tried not to gape. Swahili was not an easy language to learn. Finally the young woman nodded, and handed Jack the one month old baby.

"Ianto, can I get hand with this little one?"

Ianto stepped up to him and cradled the baby in his arms. Dr. Harkness took his stethoscope out of the med kit. Ianto frowned down at the baby girl. She was extremely lethargic, and her breath was coming in a high-pitched wheeze. His eyes met Jack's, filled with grim confirmation. 

Jack cleared his throat. "Ianto, could you check out Beauty's ankle?" He gestured towards the elderly woman. Shifting the baby to his hip, Ianto nodded and grabbed his med kit. Beauty gave him a wary look when he approached her, but held out her arms for the baby. She began to hum to the little girl, stroking her hair. Kneeling down, Ianto slipped on a pair of latex gloves and proceeded to run capable fingers along the bridge of Beauty's foot, then the heel and up the ankle. It was definitely sprained and felt like it had been broken at some point in the past, maybe a couple of times. Ianto carefully wrapped it up. It was all he could do outside of Torched Wood. He did the same with the second sprained ankle, and the third. When he straightened, Jack caught his eye and nodded his head for Ianto to come join his talk with Mgumbe, the young woman and the elderly man. They were speaking in Swahili, so Ianto took the opportunity to observe their body language. The old man wanted to be persuaded to go back to Torched Wood, but he didn't want to appear weak. The young woman was determined to move on. Ianto guessed that only the baby girl was her child. Perhaps the others were nieces and nephews, or just orphans who had attached themselves to her. Jack had also latched onto the significance of the baby. Each time he gestured broadly to take in the other refugees, his hand ended by pointing to Beauty cuddling the little girl. 

Ianto could see that they weren't getting anywhere. The old man was ready to get in the truck, but it would mean losing the young woman and baby girl. Making his decision, Ianto strode over to Beauty and gestured that she should give the baby back to him. She fit easily in the crook of his arm and immediately closed her eyes again. Ianto stopped and fetched Dr. Harkness' stethoscope out of the med kit, then rejoined the mini-conference.

"Dr. Harkness? Perhaps our young mother would like to hear her child's lungs at work?"

Jack nodded solemnly. "That is a good idea." He turned and said a few words in Swahili to the mother. She gave the stethoscope an apprehensive look. Jack hooked it over his ears and proceeded to listen to his own breaths. The young woman licked her lips nervously, but took the stethoscope when he offered it to her. She carefully listened to herself breathing. A look of wonder crossed her face, and she excitedly placed the stethoscope on her daughter's chest. Her face fell when she heard the fluid in her baby's lungs. She turned to Jack with an accusing glance. Jack grimaced and spread his hands in apology. He said a few more words in Swahili, gesturing at the truck. Ianto held his breath. She finally nodded begrudgingly.

Ianto heaved a sigh of relief and exchanged smiles with Jack before going over to help Beauty and the kids into the truck. He noticed Mgumbe pull Jack aside and whisper for a minute before starting the engine.

"Ianto! Could I have a minute?" Jack called to him.

"Of course, Dr. Harkness. How may I assist you?"

"It's Jack. Listen, Mgumbe was just telling me that there was something we might want to take a look at before heading back to Torched Wood. I would like him to get the refugees back as soon as possible. Would you mind walking a little farther down the road with me to investigate and then walking back to the clinic?"

Ianto surprised himself by agreeing right away. It was quite exciting, actually, walking through the African savannah with no other people in sight except for the man beside him. (Technically, Ianto could turn to look over his shoulder and see Torched Wood off in the distance. It was more thrilling the other way.)

"So, what exactly are we looking for?" Ianto asked as they headed farther north up the road. He gave Jack a curious look. In addition to one of the med kits, Jack had grabbed a thin trench coat out of the truck. Ianto had no idea what he needed a coat for in this heat. Ianto had grabbed a couple of water bottles and slung them over his shoulders.

"Mgumbe saw some buzzards circling this outcrop up ahead. It usually plays home to a bunch of warthogs, so they may have been going after warthog fricassee."

"But you don't think so."

"No, I don't, and neither does Mgumbe. Momba, that's the un-ruined village on the other side of Torched Wood by the way, has lost a lot of young men to the war in Sudan. Mgumbe heard a rumor that a couple of them were escaping, and were planning to stop in the village on their way south. They should have been through several days ago."

Ianto nodded.

"They might be a little . . . overly ripe . . . from the sun," Jack warned him.

"I am a nurse. I can handle it."

They walked in companionable silence until they reached the outcrop. The buzzards scattered at their approach. Jack circled around warily and dunked his head under the outcropping, Ianto following.

There were two young men, really no more than boys, and they were indeed sun-ripened and bloated. The smell was atrocious. Ianto pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and tied it around the lower half of his face. 

The first corpse had lost his eyes, tongue, and genitals to the buzzards. _The soft bits always go first,_ Ianto thought morbidly. He frowned as something caught his eye. 

"Dr. Harkness? This is definitely a bullet wound here. I think it was the killing shot."

"Oh, yeah? Why do you say that?" Jack asked, straightening over the second corpse.

"Bullet at the base of the neck."

"That would do it, yes. Same with my guy." Jack moved over to Ianto's side. "There's really nothing we can use to transport them back, so let's roll a couple of those boulders over to block them into the corner here. We can come back with Mgumbe later in the truck. Mickey may want to assess the situation."

"Does Mickey have combat experience?" Ianto asked as they struggled with a rather large boulder.

"Something like that," Jack grunted. "Okay, a couple more."

Ianto put his hands on his hips to survey their work. It wouldn't deter a small mammal, but the buzzards and warthogs would have a difficult time getting to the corpses around their makeshift cairn. Ianto nodded to himself, satisfied, and turned to look at Jack. Jack was gazing off into the distance, a worried frown on his face.

"Dr. Harkness? Jack? What's the matter? Do you see something?" Ianto asked.

"You see that cloud?" Ianto followed the trajectory of his outstretched arm.

"The low-to-the-ground golden cloud moving in this direction?" he hazarded.

"Exactly. That's a sandstorm coming our way," Jack said.

"How fast do those move?"

"Fast enough. There aren't any trees between here and there to break the wind."

"So do we hunker down with the dead men and wait for it to pass?" Ianto wrinkled his nose. This was going to stink.

Jack hesitated. "That's one option. We could also make a run for it. We're about two and a half kilometers from Torched Wood. We might make it."

Ianto gave him a considering look. "What aren't you telling me? Is there a chance that those men's killers would want to take refuge here as well?"

Jack nodded slowly. "Not to freak you out, but yes. Mgumbe just noticed the buzzards this morning. The killers could still be in the area. I don't think it's a large possibility," he added hurriedly, "there really is nothing else to keep them here. But we might be safer gambling on Mother Nature."

Ianto thought about it. "I would rather be killed by Africa than by guns. Let's make a run for it."

Jack flashed him that grin again. "Good choice."

They adjusted their packs, and took off at a jog towards Torched Wood. One or the other kept glancing over his shoulder at the cloud. It moved _fast._ At one kilometer to go, it was well and truly nipping at their ankles. They both put on a burst of speed before they were engulfed.

The wind formed fingers of stinging sand, poking and jabbing at them, plucking at clothes and hair and drawing out tears from the corners of their eyes. Ianto was a crap rugby player, a not much better cook, and quite useless with home repairs, but he had always had an unerring sense of direction. Grabbing a hold of Jack's elbow, he steered them towards the wall. The sand and dirt latched onto their ankles, causing them to lurch forward with the stumbling gait of zombies.

"Harkness! Jones! Blind bloody fools! Answer me!" Mickey's voice sounded so very far away, but it was in the direction Ianto had chosen. Ianto opened his mouth to call out to him, to tell him not to close the doors, they were coming. The wind slammed a great handful of sand into his mouth, however, and he wound up gasping and choking. Jack drew him close to his chest, and suddenly Ianto found himself with a clear breath. _So that's why he brought the coat; it's his shining armor,_ Ianto thought dumbly. Jack had pulled his coat around Ianto, forming a sort of tent. It was close, and hot, but Ianto was able to breathe air instead of sand. Inhaling, he was filled with the scent of Jack: slightly musky, slightly cinnamon-like, with something underneath that Ianto couldn't name, but wanted to get to know better. Which was silly, really, with the sandstorm threatening them, and Lisa's memory a very real and tangible presence, not to mention they had just met not four hours earlier. Ianto gave himself a mental shake.

"I'm ready to run for it!" he yelled up to Jack. He couldn't see if Jack nodded, but Jack's hand moved to the small of his back, fingers opening and closing to signal his understanding. Leaning on each other, they fought their way back towards the gate. Ianto struggled in his pocket, and triumphantly pulled out a whistle. Jack started at the first "tweet" and gave Ianto an incredulous look.

"That must be them!" The wind carried Mickey's voice to them. "Follow my voice! Come on, move, you wankers!"

Mickey suddenly materialized in a cloud of sand in front of them.

"Gotcha! Hold on to the rope, come on, we're going in!"

Jack grabbed the loop of rope hanging from Mickey's belt, his other hand still firmly on the small of Ianto's back. It wasn't long before they passed under the entranceway into the Torched Wood compound. Ianto thought he had never been happier to see a place before in his life. Keeping to the walls, the three men skirted the courtyard and entered the Hub, slamming the door closed behind them.

"Jack! Oh, I was so worried!" Martha hurried over to them, throwing her arms around Jack's neck and squeezing tight. "Mickey? Ianto? You alright, yeah?"

Ianto nodded. His heart was pounding in his chest, he could still smell Jack, and he didn't trust himself to speak just yet.

"Jones here brought a whistle. Smart thinking, that." Mickey gave him an approving nod. "Wouldn't have found them without it."

"He also has an internal compass or something. Pointed us right towards the gate." Jack was smiling at him. He really did have a fantastic smile. Ianto fought the urge to do something else heroic just so Jack would keep smiling at him.

"Gwen," he started, then paused to clear his throat. Damn sand. "Gwen told me about the sandstorms. I thought a whistle would be prudent."

"What else did you bring? To be prudent?" Surely that wasn't a suggestive leer from the good Dr. Harkness. With the way Gwen spoke of him, plus Sarah Jane's reaction, Ianto had assumed him to be quite the ladies' man.

"Jack! You're terrible!" Martha rolled her eyes. "Come on, you lot, now that we're all safe from the storm, we should give Owen and Sarah Jane a hand. You want lung infections or broken bones?"

Ianto spent the next several hours working the portable X-ray machine and setting bones alongside Dr. Harkness. Jack maintained a very professional demeanor throughout the day, addressing Ianto as "Nurse Jones" and soliciting his opinion on various bruises and abrasions. Each time he turned his back on Jack to fiddle with a knob on the machine, though, Ianto could feel Jack's eyes on him. He wished he had some idea of how to react. Flirting and shagging were quite common at his hospital in Cardiff, of course, but there everyone had known he was Lisa's fiancée, and then Lisa's quasi-widower. Jack didn't know anything about his past, and Ianto was strangely excited to have the opportunity of a clean slate. It had been awhile.

Ianto fell into bed late that night, thoroughly exhausted. Even Dr. Harper's loud snores issuing from a bunk somewhere on the far side of the room could not keep him awake.

***

The days slowly fell into a kind of routine. Ianto woke early and went to check on the overnight patients. Then he started coffee for the other staff, and made toast for him and Jack, since Owen seemed to subsist on energy bars, and Martha and Nurse Smith did a night check on the overnight patients and had a snack together then. Jack would always greet him enthusiastically.

"Nurse Jones! Could I be greeted by a lovelier sight? Wait, wait. I will answer myself. No, I could not."

Ianto would typically roll his eyes while handing Jack a coffee.

"And look! Coffee!" Jack liked to take an appreciative whiff. "This is my favorite morning since yesterday."

Ianto couldn't help himself from smiling. "There's toast, too, Dr. Harkness."

"Jack."

"As you wish, Doctor." 

Then would come Ianto's favorite part of the morning ritual. Their hands would meet as Ianto passed over the napkin with toast, already nutella-ed. Jack would run his thumb over Ianto's fingers, and draw circles on the back of his hand. He would be rewarded with the barest of small hitches in Ianto's breathing.

"Oi! Don't I get any coffee?" Owen, of course.

Mgumbe would usually show up as Ianto brushed the crumbs of his toast into a bin. 

Then it was triage with Nurse Smith. He usually aided Jack or Martha with whatever new patients came through. Whenever he had a spare moment, Ianto would obsessively take inventory. Being so isolated from any outside source of food and medicine made him nervous, and his countless lists and double-checks were the only ways he had found to help his anxiety. Nurse Smith provided lunch for the staff, and she and Ianto concocted the best meals possible for the overnight patients, as befit their needs. Lunch could take up to two hours, depending on who needed what kind of help. After lunch, Ianto liked to do the cleaning. A clinic in the middle of a dustbowl required continuous sweeping and dusting. Mgumbe also brought children to them in the afternoons for any preventative care they could provide. Then, on the rare days there were no new patients, Jack would wander by and see if Ianto needed a hand with rolling bandages or sterilizing the medical implements in the operating bay. At first, these impromptu visits made Ianto extremely nervous. Ever since their first meeting, he had felt Jack's eyes on him as he went about his duties. Ianto didn't know what to make of the man. He flirted outrageously with absolutely everybody, and still managed to be incredibly charming instead of smarmy. Gradually, though, he began to let his guard down more and more around Jack. He remembered the first time he laughed at one of his deliberately lame puns – Jack's answering grin could have lit up the room. After prep time with Jack was nap time, again barring emergencies. It took Ianto a while to get used to the concept of sleeping in the middle of the day, but he soon learned the necessity of resting during the hottest part of the day. He conducted another check-up on the overnight patients after his nap, and then started preparing the meals for the patients. Nurse Smith tended to gossip during dinner-prep. It was like she charged her batteries during her nap, and had to burn off energy by running her mouth. Ianto soon perfected the art of appearing interested, even smiling and nodding at appropriate intervals, while his mind wandered down memory lane, dwelling on the green hills of Wales and the sunlight off the water in the Bay. Paperwork was reserved for the hours after dinner. Nurse Smith had several ideas about funding opportunities, plus there were charts to be updated and supplies to be requisitioned.

Ianto found that he was happy at Torched Wood. His first set of patients, the family of Sudanese refugees, had healed enough to continue their journey. (Jack told him privately that the young woman was convinced that her husband, a fighter in one of the roving bands in Sudan, had asked her to bring the family back to him. Jack was less than convinced, and Ianto's heart ached at the sight of his distress.)

The days were full. Thus far, he had been lucky enough to avoid anything that he would definitely label as an emergency. Emergencies in this area usually involved violence and bloodshed. Gwen had told him some stories to try to prepare him. Apparently, soon after Doctors Harkness and Harper arrived at the clinic, a dozen young boys had found their way to the clinic, seeking refuge from the recruiters to the local warlord's "army." The boys had been beaten to within an inch of their lives. One had died at the clinic, and one was still a patient three months later. Owen was trying to teach him how to play chess.  
Ianto fell into bed each night with the feeling that he was doing good, important work; making a difference. It was a good feeling.

***

"Owen and I knew this woman once, let's call her Suzie, she was kind of crazy. Anyhow, Suzie liked to collect dead bugs. Scalpel," Jack paused as Ianto placed the requested item in his gloved hand. "Thank you, Ianto."

"Of course, Dr. Harkness."

"Jack."

"As you wish, Doctor."

Jack canted his eyes at Ianto, then turned back to the open chest cavity in front of him.

Ianto peered alongside him. "Dead bugs?" he prompted.

"Nah, I'd say this looks more like a good clean knife thrust," Jack replied, rolling the ‘r' in thrust in a vaguely obscene manner. Ianto settled for rolling his eyes. He could feel Jack's eyes smiling at him above his surgical mask.

"So, the dead bugs," Jack resumed. "She pinned them to particle board with color-coded thumb tacks. Some of the tacks were bigger than the bugs. Anyhow, one day, actually scratch that, it was well past midnight – done with the scalpel for now, thanks."

Ianto wordlessly took it back, his fingers brushing over Jack's. He studiously ignored the way his own pulse quickened at the touch of the other man's hand.

"We were just finishing a double shift. All I wanted was a long, hot shower, but there was this strange buzzing coming from the sleep-and-fuck room. Owen thought it was a couple of nurses with a dildo, and talked me into walking in on them."

Ianto cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Hey, it was his idea! Anyway," Jack hurriedly continued the story. "There were no dildos, or nurses, in the sleep-and-fuck room. It was Suzie. Suzie and an old tape recorder, blasting insect noises – crickets, cicadas, mosquitoes, bees. And let's not forget the piece de resistance! She had her bug collection with her. She was standing over the bug collection, making buzzing noises, just like on the tape! She had killed them all, and now she was attempting to bring them back."

Ianto's eyebrow was getting a workout. "And precisely how was she planning to do that?"

Jack grinned with his eyes. "Electric shock therapy. She was wearing wool socks!"

Ianto let out a snort of laughter. Jack laughed with him, a pleased look in his eyes.

"May I ask what position Suzie occupied at your hospital?"

"Head of neurosurgery."

Ianto laughed again, Jack right along with him. Their eyes met.

"Oi! You lot just about done in there?" Owen's voice called from the corridor. "I've got a bloke out here that could really use Nurse Jones' deft touch with a needle and thread."

Jack gave Ianto another grin. "You better be careful when Owen pays you a compliment, you know."

Ianto's lips quirked into an answering smile. "Hmm, I think I got that when Sarah Jane miraculously wound up with laundry duty every day last week." Owen had proclaimed loudly that Sarah Jane Smith softened fabric just by smiling at it. "Though between you and me, I really do like stitches."

In fact, Ianto's favorite medical procedure was stitches. They were ugly to look at, but they made everything so neat. Lining the skin up, thread pulled tight and tied off, the tiny scar reminding that here, right here, it could have been so much worse. Stitches helped the skin repair itself, which it already wanted to do, and when he thought of it, wasn't that amazing? The human body, joining back together again, closing gaping wounds, the skin protecting all those vital organs and precious arteries, always tenaciously striving for life. And stitches were Ianto's way of being of use. So if Owen wanted to foist them off on Ianto, Ianto didn't mind.

***

The heat was oppressive, and the sandstorm yesterday had prevented Gwen from making her scheduled trip out to the clinic. Ianto was on edge; everyone was, really. Word had reached them two days ago about possible skirmishes to the west. Two competing warlords were fighting for the privilege of negotiating with USAID contractors to get an educational project going in their own villages. It was impossible to tell if smoke had joined the sand clouds on the horizon, but Ianto privately thought he could smell it, more so than the underlying smell from their own burnt village. What really had him on pins and needles, though, was Jack. It had started after Mgumbe had left two days ago, to pass the news of the fighting to the villages beyond the clinic. Ianto thought it would be prudent to prepare extra dressings and field kits for any potential victim of the skirmishes. Jack had agreed and was giving him a hand. Owen, who usually went off by himself during the prep time, had joined them. Ianto and Jack were talking quietly, hands occasionally brushing as they divided supplies and rolled bandages.

"So then I turned to my buddy Gerald and I said, ‘if you wanted some sushi, all you had to do was ask!'"

Ianto snorted. "Blowfish sushi? You certainly do take risks."

"What's life without a little risky business, eh?" Jack grinned at him. Ianto rolled his eyes.

"One blowfish has enough poison to kill thirty adult humans."

Jack laughed. "You do really know everything, don't you, Ianto?"

Ianto smiled and reached for the bandage Jack was handing him. "I try."

Their eyes met, as did their fingers.

"Oh, get a room, why don't you?" Owen said in disgust. "Could the two of you be any more obvious?"

Ianto blushed and dropped his end of the bandage.

Jack turned lazily to face Owen. "What's the matter, Owen? You jealous?"

He snorted loudly. "Trust me, Nurse Jones is all yours, Harkness. Do with him as you will, just not in front of me."

Ianto thought his face would burn off. "Don't you have a chess game to get to, Dr. Harper? You've never helped with any preparations before; no need to start now."

Owen glared back at him. "Oh, come on, Ianto, we all know you want his hands on your body," Owen said. "Stop dancing around the issue and go get laid. There's nothing else to do here right now, anyhow."

Ianto stared at Owen with his mouth hanging open. He couldn't believe that Owen had actually said it out loud. Ianto had never struck another being in anger before in his life (well, all right, his sister Gwen when they were kids), but he wanted nothing so much as to bash Owen's nose into his head and wipe that smirk off his face.

Jack noticed, he had to notice, that Ianto was having a little difficulty reigning in his temper, but the next words out of his mouth were, "You know, Owen, that's not such a bad idea. A little crudely put, to be sure, but…"

They were both looking at Ianto now, Owen with a smug smirk, Jack with an amused one. Taking a firm grip of his dignity, he addressed the air in between them, "Dr. Harper. Dr. Harkness. I believe you have this situation well in-hand. I will leave you to it. Good day."

Ianto turned on his heel and marched off.

He hurried down the corridor, pushed the doors open to the courtyard and stalked outside, seething. The nerve of that man! Both of them! It was rude, unprofessional, and, holy crap, were his feelings for Jack really that obvious? And how dare Jack treat him like that?

"Ianto!" Jack came running out into the courtyard, as well. "Hey, Ianto! Slow down. Chill."

"Chill? Chill?"

"Yeah. It means ‘calm down' – a little outdated, perhaps –"

"You want me to calm down? After that?" Ianto was incredulous. "I haven't been so badly humiliated since – actually, I can't think of a time!"

"Really? Did you have middle school in Wales?"

Ianto glowered. 

"Sorry, sorry, perhaps not the best time for –" Jack backtracked hastily.

"Jack, you need to tell him that there's nothing – I mean, that we're not – I mean, we're colleagues." Ianto finished, somewhat lamely.

"Colleagues."

"Yes, colleagues," Ianto answered firmly.

Jack just stood there with his arms folded across his chest.

"You want me to march in there and tell Owen to stop picking on you because we are colleagues."

"You don't have to tell him to stop picking on me, Jack, I can take care of myself!"

"Well, isn't that what you just said?"

"No, I said – "

"Ianto, you really need to lighten up."

"I am plenty lightened up, Jack; what he said was not appropriate. We have a collegial relationship, nothing more, and he just –"

"Collegial? So when you smile at me, and your hand brushes mine, and you laugh at my jokes, and you stand just a little too close – you would do all those things with Owen because you have a collegial relationship with him, too?"

Ianto stopped and looked at Jack. He swallowed noisily.

"Yes," he said softly.

"Really. Well, I don't believe you."

"Jack –"

"No, Ianto, look, you have got to get that stick out of your ass, or you're never going to get anything to take its place."

Ianto made strangled noises.

"Take care of your own problems with Owen. He is your colleague, after all."

Jack turned and strode quickly back into the Hub, leaving Ianto standing in the middle of the courtyard, feeling humiliated, and stupid, and alone.

That had been two days ago. Since then, Ianto had not said a word to either Jack or Owen that was not "yes, doctor," or "no, doctor." Jack and Owen were snappish to each other, and tended to ignore everyone else. Martha and Sarah Jane were downright bewildered. When Mgumbe showed up on the third day and asked if two of them would accompany him to one of the outlying villages that had been targeted in the latest raids, Owen leapt at the chance. Martha decided to go with him. Now there was just Jack to avoid.

Mgumbe returned the next day, sans Owen and Martha but with nine young women crammed into the back of the truck. They had met up with a Red Cross mobile medical unit, complete with armed escort, and the Torched Wood doctors had opted to stay with them and send these patients back to the clinic. They would be more comfortable in an actual facility, Mgumbe said, and Ianto had to agree.

The women had all suffered at the hands of a supposed doctor performing female circumcision. The doctor had thoroughly botched the job, however, and the women were in extreme pain and would most likely not be able to bear children in the future. It was, sadly enough, a common story in that part of Kenya. Done right, female circumcision did not have to interfere with the ability to experience sexual pleasure nor did it prevent conception. However, it was a very delicate procedure and few doctors had the necessary training and equipment to do the job. It reminded Ianto of back-alley abortions, accept that female circumcision carried no social stigma in Kenya. Ianto had been treated to a lecture on how it was misogynistic and evil from a fellow nurse at his hospital in Wales before he left for Kenya. Privately, he found it to be a totally unnecessary medical procedure, but he wasn't sure if he considered it to be misogynistic or just something his culture wasn't used to.

Pulling on gloves, he and Jack set to work on the first patient. Calling her a young woman was a little too generous. She was perhaps thirteen. After ten minutes, Ianto decided he was going to have to go with the misogynistic label. He clenched his jaw to control his fury at the sight of swollen and mangled flesh, and willed his hands to be steady and gentle.

Ianto risked a glance at Jack. He looked gray-faced and there was blood on his lip, but his hands were also steady.

"Bring in the others," Ianto called outside to Mgumbe, pulling on a new pair of gloves.

Over the next five hours, they saw eight more women, all suffering the effects of botched female circumcision. The infection had spread so far in two of them that all Ianto could do was increase their morphine intake and hope that Gwen made it back soon with the antibiotics. The other six women alternated between dull hopelessness and confused disbelief. Jack finished up with their last patient, a girl of about twelve, and stumbled out of the Hub into the darkening gloom. Ianto looked after him worriedly, but there were a few more things he had to do before he could focus on Jack.

Ianto scrubbed his hands and walked through the Spoke, stopping at each woman's cot to make sure they were resting as comfortably as they could under the circumstances. None of the patients met his eyes. Sighing heavily, Ianto stepped out into the night to look for Jack.

He didn't have to look far. Jack had barely made it around the corner before collapsing in on himself. As Ianto hurried forward, he could make out the sound of Jack retching into the dead grass.

"Jack?" Ianto asked softly, laying a hand on Jack's broad shoulder.

Jack stiffened, and pulled himself upright. "Leave me alone, Ianto."

Ianto gripped him by the shoulders and turned him to look him in the eyes.

Jack had been crying. The tears and sweat were running down his face, his nose had started to run, and spit from getting violently sick was starting to collect in the corner of his mouth. In short, he looked absolutely terrible, completely un-Jack-like. Ianto wanted nothing more than to enclose him in his arms and hold on for dear life, but he was brought up short by the anger in Jack's eyes.

"Jack. You did everything you could."

He snorted. "Not much, though, was it? Two of those women aren't going to make it through the night. The others? They'll certainly never have children. What kind of future will they have here? They're supposed to grow up to be mothers. What use does this society have for mothers that aren't fucking mothers?"

"Maybe they can leave."

"Leave? Leave?! Stop being so fucking naïve, Ianto! These women aren't going anywhere!"

Ianto just stood there and assessed him calmly. "You're right. Their lives are now shit. I really shouldn't try out optimism; I'm not well-suited for it. I just thought it would make you feel better."

Jack stared at him incredulously. A gurgling laugh escaped his lips. His eyes opened wide, and he covered his mouth with his hands. "This isn't funny." Another hysterical laugh/snort burst forth. "It's fucking depressing." He began to laugh harder and cry at the same time.

Ianto moved forward slowly, as if he was approaching a wild animal. He placed one hand on Jack's shoulder, the other circling his waist and bringing him closer. Jack took a shuddering breath, and moved into the embrace. Closing his eyes, tears still streaming down his face, he laid his head on Ianto's shoulder. Ianto began to make soothing little humming noises as he moved his one hand across Jack's shoulder over to the nape of his neck, where he began to run his fingers through Jack's hair. Ianto's other hand tightened on Jack's waist. They stayed that way until Jack's shuddering came to a stop.

Jack took a deep breath and a step back. "Thank you."

Ianto nodded gravely. "Would you like some mint leaves?"

"That bad, huh?" Jack huffed, and gave a low-key version of his patented grin. "Yes, please."

Ianto handed over the mint leaves, and then didn't know what to do with his hands. He wanted to hold Jack still, but Jack seemed like he wanted his distance again. Ianto settled for stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"We should get back to the Hub," Jack said, turning in that direction. "And I really need to wash up."

"Yup."

Jack stopped abruptly, and turned to face Ianto again. He swallowed. "I'm sorry. About what I said earlier . . . with Owen. And about giving you the cold shoulder for days, and yelling at you just now. And getting snot on your uniform."

Ianto looked down. Sure enough, there was snot on his uniform. He gave Jack a small smile. "It's . . . I'm sorry, too. Thanks," he finished awkwardly.

Jack gave him a look that he couldn't read. "So . . . let's get back, yeah? We're good, right?"

Ianto nodded. "Yup."

As dusk darkened to evening, and evening slowly became night, the two women who didn't stand a chance lost their battles. Ianto was with them as each one drew her last breath. Very carefully, he washed and dried each corpse, and dressed them in white dresses from the Foundation's store of donated clothing. By the time he was finished, they looked utterly at peace. He gently placed them on the double-decker gurney and wheeled them into the one compartment the Hub had for those awaiting burial.

He was just locking them in when Sarah Jane came bustling up to him. "Ianto, we're having a little trouble with Nigalni, Owen's chess player. One of us is going to have to help Dr. Harkness. Do you want to do that, or keep an eye on our new patients?"

Ianto ran a hand over his eyes and through his hair, trying to wake himself up. "I'll help Dr. Harkness. I think the women think I'm bad luck now," he finished, grimacing.

Sarah Jane gave him an understanding pat on the arm. "You did all that could be done."

"I know. I just . . . you know how it goes."

Ianto hurried over to the operating room. Jack was already in there with Nigalni, who looked completely out of it. His hands were moving restlessly, plucking at his hospital gown and pinching his forearms.

"Ianto, I need to start the anesthia now while you scrub in." Ianto nodded and headed to the sinks. Jack turned his attention back to Nigalni. "Nigalni? Look at me, Nigalni. I'm going to put you to sleep now, and Nurse Jones and I are going to take care of you, okay?"

Nigalni nodded absently, then frowned, and whispered, "Owen?"

Jack did not hesitate. "Owen will be here when you wake up. Just relax for now."

Nigalni's eyes slowly shut, and Ianto joined Jack at the operating table. "What happened?"

Jack sighed. "I can't say for sure. I think he may be developing a clot. We'll have to open him back up again to make certain, and remove the clot if that's what it is."

Three hours later, Ianto spied an innocuous looking growth in one of Nigalni's main stomach arteries.

"Jack. Look there."

"I see it. Good work, Ianto."

Jack began to delicately work away at the clot as Ianto carefully siphoned blood away from the area. It took another hour, but Jack was satisfied that they had it all out. Ianto began the delicate process of stitching Nigalni back up.

Jack was giving Ianto a hand with bandages when the heart monitor hiccupped. The two men exchanged a glance over Nigalni. Jack frowned at the monitor as Ianto peered at Nigalni's chest. The heart monitor stuttered again, and then flatlined.

"Fuck! Ianto, charge the paddles." Ianto was already moving towards them. "Come on Nigalni, don't give up! Owen's going to go apeshit if anything happens to you," Jack snarled, as he took off a few bandages to make room for the paddles on Nigalni's chest.

Ianto squirted the gel on the paddles and placed them on Nigalni. Jack stepped back. Nigalni's body gave a minor jolt as the electricity kicked in. The heart monitor hiccupped yet again, but did not catch on.

"Up the charge," Jack barked roughly.

Ianto charged the paddles and reapplied them. "Clear," he said softly. Nigalni's body flopped again, but again the heart monitor did not show good news.

Ianto didn't wait for unnecessary instructions. He upped the charge yet again, and delivered a third jolt. Still nothing. Ianto moved to up the charge again when Jack caught his wrist.

"Ianto. He's gone."

"No, no, we can fix this. Owen will be expecting us to fix this."

"Ianto . . ."

"Clear!" Nigalni reacted to the fourth jolt in the same way.

"This isn't right. This isn't right. We got the clot, it went perfectly, he should be fine, why isn't it working?" Ianto was vaguely aware that he was starting to babble.

Jack gave him a sympathetic look. "Sometimes people just die, Ianto. It doesn't make any sense." Jack glanced up at the clock. "Time of death is 02:41."

"No! We did it right. He should be fine." Ianto couldn't bring himself to look at Nigalni's body. Looking at Jack was even worse. Ianto didn't think he could bear to see the sympathy in those blue eyes.

"Ianto – " Jack reached out a placating hand, which Ianto roughly pushed aside.

Jack sighed. "Why don't you get cleaned up? I'll set this room to rights and do the autopsy in the morning. We're both running on fumes here."

"There isn't any room in the morgue drawer. I already put two dead women in it tonight." 

Ianto turned on his heel and marched out of the operating room, down the corridor, out the door, across the courtyard, and into the shower room in the cells. He could hear blood rushing in his ears. No one else was in the cells. Gwen was stuck in the Lodwar, Owen and Martha were still making a circuit of the villages, Sarah Jane was doing the night shift in the Spoke, Mickey was at his post at the gate, and Jack was tending to a dead body. A dead body who, just yesterday morning, had smiled at Ianto and asked when Owen would be back. Resolutely, Ianto turned on the hot water. There wasn't always plenty of water, but at least it was always hot. He peeled off his bloody uniform, still with a bit of snot from earlier in the day, when the two women and Nigalni were alive. Ianto knew, on an intellectual level, that there was probably no way he could have saved their lives. They did not have the proper medicines. They did not have enough time. All three patients were too far gone. Ianto knew this, but it did not make it any better. In some ways, it was worse. What was the point then? What was the fucking point of throwing himself up against this brick wall? It never gave. Nothing changed. It was hopeless. 

Ianto didn't realize he was sobbing until he heard a strange keening echo in the shower room. He crouched down on his heels, holding his knees and rocking back and forth in the hot spray. He never saw Jack walk in, peel off his own bloody scrubs, and pick up a sponge.

Ianto started violently at the first touch of Jack's hand on his bare back. It was as if their positions had been reversed from earlier that day. Jack hummed, and used the sponge to wash away the dried blood. Ianto squeezed his eyes shut and felt Jack move to his hair, shampooing and rinsing. Slowly, Ianto stood up and opened his eyes, gazing at Jack warily. Jack brought the sponge over again for Ianto's arms and chest. Their only point of contact now was the sponge, dripping with soapy water. Jack finished cleaning Ianto and brought the sponge up to his own chest, quickly washing away the blood, sweat, and dust of the day. Ianto reached out, plucked the sponge out of Jack's hands, and proceeded to scrub down Jack's back. Ianto dropped the sponge, and picked up the bottle of shampoo, doing for Jack what Jack had just done for him. Jack's eyes were closed, head tilted back under the spray, a slight smile on his face. Ianto watched, fascinated, as a drop of water traveled down Jack's forehead and balanced precariously on the tip of his nose. Slowly, slowly, the drop of water fell from Jack's nose, and landed with a splash on his bottom lip. Without even thinking about it, Ianto stepped forward and ran his thumb along the lip where the drop had fallen. Jack's eyes opened in surprise. They stood there under the spray of hot water, staring at each other, the only contact Ianto's thumb on Jack's lower lip, for what seemed eternity. Afterwards, neither of them could recall exactly who moved first. Was it Jack, mouth closing around Ianto's thumb, nipping at the callouses, kisses trailing down to Ianto's palm and then wrist? Or was it Ianto, stepping further into Jack's personal space, his other hand reaching up to stroke Jack's neck? All rational thought flew out the window as their two wet bodies made full contact, chest against chest, thigh against thigh, mouth against mouth. Fingers and tongues went exploring, mapping out histories in the planes and curves, swells and dips and scars of each other's bodies: the L-shaped scar on Ianto's thigh from when he had run into the corner of a window when he was a small child; the muscles in Jack's back from four years' of college baseball; the strong calf muscles in Ianto's legs from kilometers and kilometers of running to clear his head; a long scar low on Jack's back, as if someone had stabbed him there. Jack's chest was smooth and silky, Ianto's was slightly furry. Jack's hands were large and his fingers were thick, Ianto's hands were small but his fingers were long and delicate. They both had callouses on their fingertips from so long dealing with needles, shots, and shears.

Ianto felt his back come into contact with the tiled wall of the shower room and then Jack's hands were under him, lifting him up. Ianto clung to Jack's neck, kissing his mouth fiercely, again and again as he drew his legs up around Jack's hips. Their eyes locked, and Ianto could feel Jack, in him and around him and so much closer than it was possible to be. It wasn't close enough. He scrabbled for purchase around Jack's neck, bringing him in even deeper, and he had time for one fleeting thought to question why they had waited so long to do this when he felt Jack go off like an explosion inside him. He could feel Jack trembling, and slid his legs to the floor to take back his own weight. Jack's mouth was on his lips, his neck, Jack's tongue caressing his pulse and trailing down his chest as Jack fell to his knees at Ianto's feet. Jack's hands were on his hips and Jack's mouth was on him and Ianto almost passed out from the pleasure of it. Now Ianto was in Jack and around Jack and all he could see was Jack and all he could feel was Jack and all he wanted was Jack.

Afterwards they curled up into the same bunk in the cells, arms around each other, feet tangled together. 

Ianto's night was filled with unsettling dreams. He was walking down a sidewalk in a nameless European city, hand in hand with Jack, when Lisa stepped out of an alleyway and asked him why he didn't love her anymore. Then he was in a consultation with Jack, and in the middle of a discussion about the patient's high blood pressure, Jack asked him why he was betraying Lisa. In each dream Ianto was with Jack and in each dream Lisa was sad and angry.

Ianto woke up slowly, feeling sore and overly warm. There was a large weight on his chest and for a moment he panicked, unable to move. Memory returned as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Jack was sprawled across his chest, mouth breathing into his neck, hand curled possessively around his hip. Ianto had a crick in his neck from sleeping on Jack's arm, and a pain in his chest from his dreams of Lisa. He had no idea how to gracefully disentangle himself.

"Jack?" he whispered, giving the man a gentle shake. "Jack, we have to do rounds now."

"Hngjik myu shewlof," Jack muttered back, lips trailing over Ianto's jawline, hand tightening on Ianto's hipbone.

"That's a little tight, Jack. Let me up."

Jack just burrowed even closer. Ianto sighed, and gave him a slight shove.

"Ouch!" Jack rolled away, sitting up. "Hey! What was that for?"

"Sorry! Just trying to get up here," Ianto couldn't meet his eyes. "Are you alright?"

Jack smiled blearily. "Yeah, I'm fine." He leaned in to give Ianto a kiss. Ianto pulled away.

"We need to get to rounds."

"Well, yeah, okay. . ." Jack was perplexed. "Ianto, what's the matter?"

"Nothing! Nothing!" Ianto was quick to reassure him. "I just, we need to get to work."

"What time is it? Six already?" Jack yawned without covering his mouth. "I think I could handle another shower," he said, shooting a grin in Ianto's direction.

"I don't have enough time, but you go ahead, I'll go make the coffee, did you want some toast?" Ianto realized he was babbling and shut his mouth with a snap. He finished buttoning up his uniform and turned to face Jack.

Jack was staring at him with his mouth open. "Ianto, did I do something wrong?"

"No!"

"Because you're acting a little weird."

"No, I'm not."

"Yeah, you are. Last night you. . .you wanted me. This morning you practically kicked me out of bed. I'm not usually one for hearts and flowers, but come on, don't you think that's a little harsh?"

Ianto took a deep breath – 

"Jack! Bloody hell! Get your arse up here!" Mickey's voice suddenly sounded over the intercom. "I think it's Martha and Owen!"

Jack practically flew out of the bed.

"Jack! Clothes! I'll go help Mickey."

Jack nodded and hurriedly began dressing as Ianto ran from the room.

It was Mgumbe's truck. Ianto could just make out Martha in the cab of the truck through the hazy dawn light. The truck skidded to a halt as Ianto ran up and jerked the door open.

Martha looked like death warmed over. "Ianto. I'm glad you're here," she said with a warbly smile.

"Dr. Jones. Here, let me help you down," Ianto leaned in and unbuckled her seat belt; sliding one arm under her knees, he gently lifted her out of the cab. He was vaguely aware of Mgumbe getting out of the other door and crossing around to the back of the truck as Jack came running up.

"Martha!" The relief and happiness were very apparent in Jack's voice. He grabbed one of her hands and kissed her fingers. "Are you okay? What happened? Where's Owen?"

"Jack…" she whispered, face crumpling. Tears leaked from her eyes. "Jack, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

Ianto tightened his arms around her shaking body, his eyes meeting Jack's stricken ones.

"Dr. Harkness?" Mgumbe's voice sounded as if from a great distance. "Dr. Harkness, we were able to bring his body back with us…"

Jack broke eye contact with Ianto, and turned towards Mgumbe. "His body?"

"Here, in the back of the truck."

The words took a moment to sink in. Martha continued to cry into Ianto's shoulder, mumbling apologies.

Jack took a shaky breath. "Right. Nurse Jones, please take Dr. Jones into the Spoke and get her set up in a room. Mgumbe, will you help me get Dr. Harper into the Hub?"

Mgumbe nodded, and turned to climb up in the bed of the truck.

Ianto hesitated, and shifting Martha slightly in his arms, he reached out and squeezed Jack's shoulder. Jack gripped his hand for a moment before clearing his throat. "Martha, I'll be with you soon. Ianto will take care of you until I get there, okay?"

***

Martha was silent as Ianto carried her into the Spoke and into a spare room. Sarah Jane came hurrying over from a room down the hall. She took one look at Martha, and Ianto could see her heart breaking. She placed one arm about Martha's shoulders and murmured assurances in her ear. Ianto went out into the hall to get her some water and the medical supplies cart, and allow time for Sarah Jane to help her change out of her filthy clothes. Ianto took a deep breath, knowing he would have to ask Martha about what happened, and that he would have to listen.

Martha looked up when he came back into the room, dragging the cart. "Ianto," she started, cleared her throat, and tried again. "Ianto, I don't want to tell this story more than once. Is it okay to wait for Jack?"

Ianto nodded reassuringly. "That's fine, Dr. Jones. Why don't you just tell me where you're injured for now so Sarah Jane and I can help you?"

Martha nodded back and began to recite her injuries: dehydration; what felt like a couple of cracked ribs; a definitely sprained ankle; some minor scrapes and bruises on her knees, the palms of her hands, her backside, and her chin.

As Ianto set to work with Sarah Jane, his mind wandered to Jack, over in the Hub with the body of his closest friend. His brain shied away from the horrors that autopsy would contain. 

Jack joined them about an hour later. Ianto searched his face from his position on the far side of Martha. Jack's world-weariness was apparent in the cant of his shoulders, the furrows in his brow, the shadows in his eyes. Nevertheless, he took one of Martha's hands in his and said, gently, "Please tell us."

Martha took a quavering breath and looked deep into Jack's eyes. They held their stare for over a minute, then Martha squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking from the corners.

"We went to the village to check on the kids. It was just as Mgumbe had described it: the recruitment forces had been through, taking all the little boys. They had raped the women, and taken a few of them along, too, for "future needs." The elders of the village had tried to stop them, but they were all slaughtered. The recruiters had machine guns. The elders had stones. There was no contest.

"Owen was…I had never seen him like that. He was so beyond furious, but so gentle with the survivors. We worked for two straight days, patching everyone up. One of the little girls really took a shine to Owen. She followed him around, and tried to be his nurse.

"We were still with the group from the Red Cross. We thought, safety in numbers, you know? We thought no way would they attack so many of us, not after already going through the village. We were wrong."

Martha was crying in earnest now, tears streaming down her cheeks, but not sobbing. She took a shaky breath.

"The same group came back. I don't know why. They already had everything they wanted. There was a fight. I was running towards the Red Cross truck with Owen's little nurse. And then, I wasn't. I was still holding her hand, but she was dead. She was hit by a couple of bullets. I could see the man who killed her. I could see him raise his gun at me. Owen . . . I never even saw him, but suddenly he was there. He took the bullet that should have killed me."

Jack squeezed her hand tighter. Ianto's heart ached for the both of them.

"I don't even remember getting injured myself. One of the Red Cross guards carried Owen's body to the truck. We drove . . . we met up with Mgumbe in another village; he had delivered the young women from that first village and was looking for us. The Red Cross wanted me to stay with them, but I had to get back here. I had to bring Owen home. I needed to see you, Jack. I –" her voice cut off as she finally gave in to the desire to sob out loud. Jack moved closer and gathered her up in his arms, rocking her on the bed. Ianto signaled to Sarah Jane, and the two nurses quietly left them alone. Out in the hall, Ianto submitted to a hug from Sarah Jane before mumbling something about checking back in with their patients. He was able to lose himself in the work for a couple of hours, but after each dosage had been checked, blankets adjusted, drinks fetched and bedpans scoured, there was nothing for it but to go back to the cells and try to sleep through the hottest part of the day. He looked into Martha's room on his way out of the Spoke. She slept the sleep of the drugged. Sarah Jane had taken Jack's place in the chair by the bed. She gave him a soft smile and a mouthed "good night."

Ianto trudged across the courtyard and into the cells, but pulled up short, seeing Jack lying on his bed – the same bed they'd used just the previous night. Hesitantly, he walked over and looked down at Jack. His eyes were open, red-rimmed and staring unseeing at the ceiling.

"Jack? Would…would you like some tea or…anything?"

Jack snorted. "Anything? Yeah, I'd like a little ‘anything,' Ianto. You offering?"

Ianto flushed, and turned to walk away.

"No. No, don't walk away. I want to know what I did wrong." Jack sat up suddenly and fixed Ianto with an angry stare. "My friend is lying dead across the courtyard and I had to do the autopsy. The closest thing I have to a sister is in horrible pain and I can't do anything to put her heart back together. We are surrounded by death and horror and hopelessness on every side, and what am I stuck thinking about? That last night you loved me and I worshiped every square inch of you, and today, you want to act like it never happened! Tell me, Ianto, what is wrong with me?!"

They were standing so close now. Jack's blue eyes filled Ianto's field of vision. He felt he was drowning in them, sinking deeper and deeper with every breath.

"I…I'm sorry," he managed to whisper. There was a long pause.

"That's all?" Jack's voice was soft, unemotional now. It was his turn to walk away.

"Wait. Please?"

Jack looked back over his shoulder. "Am I going to get an answer?"

Ianto sat down heavily on the bed. "Jack, the last person I lo – maybe Gwen had told you, but the reason she thought I should come to Africa was because my girlfriend died several months ago and I kind of shriveled up inside. Lisa was so vibrant, and determined, and charming. You'd have liked her," he added in a small voice.

"Anyhow, I came here, and I met you, and I just started being…happy…again." Ianto risked a glance up at Jack. Jack was standing there, arms crossed over his chest, but he was listening intently.

"Last night wasn't a mistake," he continued, holding Jack's gaze until he came over to the bed and sat down next to Ianto.

"The thing is, I feel myself falling for you, and that scares me. I don't know what to expect. I've never fallen for a man before, and, well, I know what men are like. When I'm around you, it doesn't matter. Everything feels right, and I can forget that this is too soon and too much and I'm putting my foot in my mouth –"

Jack's lips were on his, effectively silencing him. Jack's hand was on his chest, Jack's body maneuvering his own flat onto the bed. Jack was like a wave crashing over him, stealing his breath, turning his limbs to jelly. Ianto was completely submerged. He wanted to *want* to fight it, but it was so difficult.   
Jack's fingers expertly undid Ianto's neat row of buttons, peeling the shirt off him and discarding it somewhere on the floor. Ianto's belt followed before he could think clearly enough to push Jack off of him.

"Wait."

Jack's tongue and teeth were caressing and nipping at Ianto's neck as Jack's hands were lifting Ianto's hips, pulling at his pants.

"Jack, I said wait!"

Jack rocked back on his heels.

"What?"

"Didn't you hear what I said?"

"You said everything feels right."

"Well, yes, but –"

"No butts until later."

"Jack."

"Sorry, time and place." Jack settled back onto the bed. "Sorry." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Look, I know I don't have a stellar reputation. And I'm a bit of a flirt. And we're both a little…broken." He bit his lip. "But I make you happy. And you make me happy. And right now, happy is in short supply. We're lucky to have found each other, don't you think?"

Ianto nodded slowly.

"So let's see where this goes! Aren't you curious? Don't you want to try to live for right now, Ianto, just once in your life?"

"But what if –"

"I won't break you. You're stronger than you think. And I'll never intentionally hurt you. Give me a chance. Please."

Ianto hesitated. "You sure you want to put up with me? I can be awfully stubborn."

Jack smiled. "Yeah. I like it."

Ianto hmphed, but returned the smile. He reached out for Jack and helped him shuck his shirt. Their lips met again, mouths opening, as Jack moved back to slipping off Ianto's trousers and pants, shoes and socks. Ianto's fingers deftly undid the buckle on Jack's belt. Jack pushed Ianto back into the pillows as he shed the rest of his own clothing. His fingers caressed Ianto's hips as he licked his lips and took Ianto deep into his mouth. Ianto threw his head back and couldn't stop the moan from traveling up his throat and out into the hot air of the cells. He dug his fingers into Jack's hair.

"Jack, I want – I need – Jack," Ianto tugged on Jack's head. Ianto was amazed at the look in his eyes. How could he inspire such lust and affection? If Jack had been an inexorable wave earlier, he was a raging bonfire now.

Ianto's breath caught in his throat even as he pushed Jack back. "I want to feel you," he whispered as he crawled up Jack's body. Jack nodded, eyes burning brighter and brighter. Ianto was already slick and aching from Jack's earlier ministrations. Slowly, slowly Jack let him inside. Ianto wanted to fill every empty space in Jack's life. He could almost feel the ghost of Owen in the room with them, and all the others that Jack worked alongside in previous wars, men and women who laid down their lives for a cause and would never feel this fire. He felt sorry for them, even as he reveled in the sensation of Jack all around him. He pushed in deeper, and Jack let out a strangled moan and dragged his nails down Ianto's back. He began to chant Ianto's name as Ianto got closer and closer to the edge. Ianto's teeth latched onto the precise spot where Jack's neck met his shoulder, and they both came hard.

Ianto collapsed onto Jack's chest, mumbling incoherently. Jack clung to his back, breathing heavily. The heat, emotional exhaustion, and yesterday's long hours started to take their toll, and they both drifted off to sleep.

Ianto woke with a start at 15:58. His muscles twitched involuntarily and he tightened his grip around Jack's chest. He stared perplexedly at his alarm clock. Something had woken him up, but he had no idea what. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he sat up, giving Jack's shoulders a gentle shake.

"Jack."

"Hnghkly."

"That's fascinating. I'm going to take a shower now. You want in?"

Jack was suddenly wide awake and sat bolt upright, hair going in about one hundred different directions. "Of course!"

Jack's face was a map of pillow creases. Hiding a smile, Ianto rooted around in the cell's cupboard for a couple of clean towels. He could feel Jack watching him, and smiled broader.

The showers at Torched Wood were sometimes uncomfortably hot due to the sun warming the water in the pipes throughout the daylight hours. Still, Jack and Ianto managed to drag out their shower. Jack's hands caressed Ianto's shoulders, torso and stomach. They stood under the shower together, eye to eye. Ianto liked the new sensation of being on the same eye level as his partner. He also really liked what Jack was doing with his hands. Jack touched him like he was completely new, fragile, but not like Ianto was breakable. Fragile as in cherished. Fragile as in Jack didn't want to lose him. Ianto reveled in the sense of adoration as the water smoothed away the soap and shampoo, the smell of sex and Jack's own particular odor, which Ianto seemed to have taken in through his pores. Ianto's own hands traveled over Jack's hips, gripping his waist, tickling the soft skin where the legs started being legs and ceased being buttocks. Jack moved in closer. Ianto's brain completely shut off and didn't turn back on until they switched the water off.

They dried off at a faster pace, anxious to get back to Martha and their new patients. As they walked down the hall of the cells towards the courtyard, it suddenly hit Ianto what had woken him up.

"The animals. I haven't heard any animals this afternoon, not even any birds or insects." Ianto broke into a run, Jack on his heels.

"Ianto, what –"

Both men skidded to a stop in the courtyard. Mickey was on his knees, bloody gag in his mouth. Ianto couldn't even spare him a second glance. His eyes were transfixed by the large gang leader holding a rifle rather casually on his hip, with a smaller gun in his other hand, pointed to Mickey's forehead. He was wearing chunky black combat boots, camo trousers, and a dirty pale blue overshirt, similar to workshirts worn in petrol stations all over the world. "Hello, My Name Is JOHN. How May I Be of Service?" was stitched in a name tag over his heart. At least a half dozen of his cohorts were ranged through the courtyard.

"Dr. Harkness! I have come to rain death and destruction down on you and yours!" John proclaimed in a loud clear voice.

Ianto stifled an inappropriate giggle. _He sounds like he was taught English by Owen,_ he thought before he could catch himself.

"Indeed. Surely we can work something out?" Jack's voice sounded calm in Ianto's ears. They were really well-armed. Ianto's breathing started coming a little faster.

"All I want is for this place to not be here. Torch the Torched Wood!" John snickered, gestured to his men, and they all started to snicker, too.

_Ooh, clever. We're going to die at the hands of cut-rate Bond villains. Brilliant._

"Let's be reasonable. Isn't a clinic useful for soldiers in a time of war?" Ianto had no idea how Jack was maintaining this calm; he was gibbering uncontrollably in his own head.

John snorted and opened his mouth to reply when one of his soldiers emerged from the Spoke. Ianto's heart caught in his throat. Martha, Sarah Jane, Mgumbe, all of their patients – _what had happened to them?_ He couldn't make out what the soldier was saying. Ianto recognized the words for "bed" and "woman," but the dialect was slightly different and the wind wasn't helping.

"What are you playing at, Dr. Harkness? You say this is a clinic – where are the patients?" John moved closer to Jack and Ianto, one of his soldiers taking up the position behind Mickey.

Jack was silent, his features still. Ianto tried to imitate him.

"Well?!" John was now just inches away. Ianto could see the spittle in the corners of his mouth and individual grains of sand on his shirt. Ianto frowned. The wind was really picking up, but there were no telltale clouds beyond the wall.

"Bah!" John was turning away, so he missed seeing the copter blades make their appearance over the trees. He didn't miss hearing the machine gun rattle. Two of the gang members fell in the first wave, and all hell broke loose.

Later, Ianto had a hard time making sense of what had happened in the courtyard. He remembered snippets, burned into his memory. Mickey, rolling to the side and kicking his captor high in the chest with what Ianto could only describe as a break-dance move. (Ianto could not later remember untying him after that, but Mickey assured him that he did.) Mgumbe's face, peering around the corner of the garage, and how had he got there when Ianto was pretty sure he had been in the Spoke with Sarah Jane? (The underground tunnels that Sarah Jane had glanced over in his orientation – the six current patients, Sarah Jane, and Martha had followed Mgumbe under the courtyard and up into the garage at Mickey's first warning shout.) Rhys, clinging to the controls of the helicopter, his face set with determination and terror. (Again, later, Rhys told him privately that only years of video arcade games had allowed him to maintain the height of the copter. He had had precisely five minutes of training after he and Gwen had received the one distress call Mickey had been able to put out – luckily they had already been enroute.) Gwen on the machine guns in the helicopter, face contorted with rage. Ianto had no idea she even knew how to load a gun, and there she was, firing away and shrieking obscenities. She looked like an avenging angel. (She told him, later, that she liked the power she felt when firing the machine gun. It worried her.) But what was emblazoned in his memory was Jack.

In that first frozen moment after the sound of the machine gun fire died, Jack hurled himself at John, knocking him down. As fights raged all around them (and there was Mickey again, untied and brandishing two guns he had managed to take from the soldiers), Jack and John wrestled for control over John's firearms. A couple of soldiers got close and were picked off by Gwen. (Later, Ianto was told that he had acquitted himself admirably in defense of Jack, aiming for kneecaps and not shooting to kill. Ianto has no memory of this, or of how he got his hands on a gun in the first place.) Slowly, slowly Jack got the upper hand, kicking the rifle away and seizing the handgun. Breaking free of John, Jack stood and aimed down at him. John's hand dipped down to his combat boot and as Jack fired, John threw the knife that he had concealed there. Ianto could see it like it was in slow motion, but he couldn't move fast enough to prevent the damage, only to pull Jack to the side. The knife lodged under his ribcage on his left side. There was so much blood, welling up and over Ianto's fingers as he frantically tried to stem the flow.

"Jack! You can't die. You can't die. You can't die." It became his mantra; Ianto couldn't stop repeating it even if he had wanted to.

He was unaware of the fighting stopping around him, or the copter easing down in the grass outside the walls. (Later, they told him that Mgumbe and Martha drove the truck with the patients and Sarah Jane in the back, and Ianto followed with Jack in the copter, Gwen back at the controls, Rhys acting as co-pilot, and Mickey across from them, having stashed Owen's corpse rather awkwardly into the fourth bucket seat.) Ianto didn't remember how they got there, just the color of Jack's blood on his hands and the wind ruffling Jack's hair and when Ianto finally looked up, Owen was looking back at them.

"Hey, mate. See you got your hands around Jack, yeah?"

Ianto gave him a watery smile. "Yup."

"The two of you going to head off and star in your own movie now? _The African Queens? Out in Africa?"_

_"I Dreamed of Dead Owen in Africa."_

"You better hold tight. He can be a slippery sucker."

Ianto chuckled softly to himself, sniffling a little. "I've figured that part out myself."

Owen gave a small smile. "You're well-suited for each other, did I ever tell you that?"

"Can't say as you did."

"Yeah, well, do you blame me? He was my best friend, but then with you…well. I could've been more welcoming, I reckon."

"Wouldn't have been you, then."

Owen snorted. "Guess not."

There was a silence, broken only by the whirring of copter blades.

"Ianto, mate…you'll be a friend to him, too, won't you? He needs someone to call him on his shit from time to time, you know."

"I can do that."

"Good, good." Another pause. "Listen, I need to get going. I don't want to see your ugly mug, or Jack's, for a long time, understand?"

"Thank you, Owen. You won't."

Owen smiled, and looked away.

Ianto caught himself as he started nodding off. His hands were a sticky mess, but the blood was drying. Jack had stopped bleeding. He had less color in his cheeks than usual, but they were not a deathly hue. Stretching his neck, Ianto peered around at their surroundings. They were in the back of the helicopter. Mickey was dozing in one of the seats across from them. Owen's sheet-wrapped corpse was balanced in the seat next to him. Ianto wrinkled his nose. Owen was starting to stink. Ianto looked over his shoulder. Gwen and Rhys were in the cab of the copter, talking quietly. Settling back, Ianto could just make out a dust cloud on the road below them: the big truck from Torched Wood, hopefully transporting Martha, Sarah Jane, Mgumbe and all the patients. Ianto had no idea where they were headed, or even how he had gotten into the copter in the first place, but he found himself strangely not minding. At least he was awake now, and not carrying on conversations with dead men.

"Ianto?" Jack's voice was barely there.

"Save your strength, Jack," Ianto replied, tightening his grip and kissing the top of Jack's head.

"Just one thing."

"What's that, then?"

"I love you."

Ianto felt tears threaten his eyes. "You're not dying."

"I know that. I still love you."

"Thank you," Ianto whispered back. "I love you, too."

 

It took them two hours to reach Lodwar. After a whispered conference between Gwen and Sarah Jane, it was decided that Gwen would continue along in the helicopter to Nairobi with Rhys, Ianto, Jack and Owen's body. Mickey would stay and help get Torched Wood's patients settled into the Red Cross clinic in Lodwar. Gwen would come back for any patients that needed more extensive care.

The hospital in Nairobi had a helipad, and several hours later Gwen eased the copter down before hopping out to help Ianto and Rhys with Jack. Ianto noticed a couple of soldiers in uniform hovering by the roof's entrance to the hospital. Gwen hung back to get information on the attack of Torched Wood Medical Facility. Rhys ran back to the copter to kill the engine and wrestle Owen out and down to the morgue. Ianto held Jack's hand tight in his own as he was wheeled into an operating room.

"Nurse Jones? I'm sorry, but could you stand aside?" the attending doctor asked, not unkindly.

"May I…may I stay? I won't get in the way; I'll stand against the wall."

The doctor hesitated, but one look at Ianto must have convinced him it was not worth arguing over. He sighed noisily. "Of course. But you've been through quite a traumatic experience. You should probably get checked–"

"I'm fine. Really. I just – I need to stay with him. Please?"

It took another two hours for Jack to get patched up. Ianto's eyelids were drooping heavily as he followed Jack's gurney as it was wheeled into a private room with two beds down the hall from surgery. A tiny Japanese woman and a tall redheaded woman were conferring quietly by the window. They looked up at Ianto and Jack's entrance.

The Japanese woman gave him a half-smile and walked forward to shake his hand. "Ianto Jones? I'm Toshiko Sato, the Director of Programs for the Tyler Foundation in Africa. This is my assistant, Donna Noble–"

"How's Jack? Is he going to be alright? What happened? Do you need a whiskey?"

Ianto felt a bit overwhelmed at the torrent of questions. Dr. Sato shot her a reproving glance. Donna had the grace to blush.

"Right then. Whiskey first. You sit down, here," she practically manhandled Ianto into the sole chair in the room. "Now you take a deep breath, a drink and then you can answer our questions!" She presented a tumbler of icy whiskey to Ianto with a dramatic flourish. Ianto wondered briefly where she got the ice, and downed the whiskey in one gulp. Holding the icy glass up to his forehead, he began to speak.

"Jack should make a full recovery. Some of his organs got a bit…bruised…but there was a minimum of internal bleeding, and he's been all stitched up. He needs sleep and time."

Ianto wasn't sure how technical to make his assessment of Jack's health, and decided to leave it at that when Dr. Sato and Donna exchanged relieved looks.

"Another whiskey?" Donna asked brightly, taking his glass and turning towards the low cabinets on the other side of Jack's bed.

"Your sister and Father Williams have taken a small plane back to Lodwar to pick up Dr. Jones, Nurse Smith, Mr. Smith, Mgumbe and Torched Wood's patients. They should be here in another couple of hours," Dr. Sato informed him.

"Thank you. Both of you," he added, glancing up as Donna returned with a new whiskey. He took a sip. It was good whiskey; he hadn't really tasted the first one.

"As to Torched Wood…Mickey will be able to give you a better idea of what happened. I still don't –" he took another drink.

"I know this must be hard for you. Please take your time," Dr. Sato said gently.

"We were attacked by some warlord. I'm hazy as to the why." One more sip. "There was a lot of fighting. I don't know if – I couldn't tell if any of his party were still alive. Jack did for the warlord." He downed the rest of his drink. "We would all have died if Gwen hadn't shown up."

Dr. Sato and Donna exchanged glances again. "I think that's enough for now, don't you, Donna?"

Donna nodded. "I need to pester the hospital admin about getting spaces for our incoming guests. Take care, Ianto," she gave Ianto a hearty handshake before turning to Jack and kissing his forehead. "You, too, Sleeping Beauty."

Dr. Sato watched her leave with a slight smile on her face. "I need to make a few calls myself, Ianto. Donna brought some clean clothes if you'd like a wash. Why don't you lay down for a bit? We'll come back and wake you when the others get here."

"Thank you, Dr. Sato."

She blushed. "Oh, Toshiko is fine, or Tosh, really, that's what everyone calls me."

"Thank you, Tosh."

"You're welcome." Tosh smiled again and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Ianto rose unsteadily to his feet. The whiskey was going straight to his head and reminding him that it had been hours since he had eaten anything. He stumbled into the tiny washroom and did a halfhearted attempt at getting clean. It was a far cry from his last shower. He could remember vivid details of Jack's hands on him, Jack's lips caressing his skin, the heat from the shower nothing in comparison to the heat between them. Ianto sighed and pulled on the spare clothes Donna had provided. He staggered out into the room. It didn't even occur to him to take advantage of the second, empty bed. Carefully adjusting wires, he curled up next to Jack, pulling the thin blanket over them both. His fingers found Jack's pulse point and took comfort from the steady throbbing. Nestling his head on Jack's shoulder, he finally closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Ianto slept for ten hours straight, not even waking when the nurse came in at regular intervals to check on Jack. When he finally came back to consciousness, he could hear Jack talking softly and feel Jack's arms around him, one hand on his neck and the other on his hip. Ianto became fully awake when he heard what Jack was saying.

"Those men were dead before we got there. If we wanted to hide the fact that we found them, we never would have told their families where they were."

Ianto sat up and looked around the room. Jack's arms tightened their grip briefly before going slack. Gwen was there with Mgumbe, who looked particularly distraught. Dr. Sato sat in the only chair, with Donna hovering at her elbow. 

Gwen crossed the space that separated them and threw her arms around his neck. Ianto clung to her, breathing in the smell of her hair and rubbing her back. When they pulled away, Gwen's eyes were wet but her smile was huge. Ianto kissed her forehead and put one arm around her shoulders. She snuggled her head down on his shoulder and leaned back against the bed. Ianto looked from Jack to Mgumbe.

"What were you talking about? Those bodies we found my first day at Torched Wood?"

It was Dr. Sato who answered. "Apparently, those men were members of Hart's squad. Hart came down out of the Sudan a few years ago and took them from their village, but he trusted them enough to let them travel on their own. They had told Hart that they needed medical attention and were going to Torched Wood, as it was neutral. One of the men had realistically faked an illness for two weeks to convince him that they had a legitimate health concern. However, their actual plan was to desert. We think they may have stolen something that belonged to Hart when they left, though it hasn't been recovered. They were making their way to Momba on the other side of Torched Wood; they had family there. They ran into a roving band from a rival Sudanese warlord. They call themselves the Ndugu Weupe, the Gray Brothers, because they move with the stealth of ghosts. They are the ones who executed the two young men and left them for the buzzards."

"So . . . Torched Wood was attacked in retaliation for something the Gray Brothers had done?" Ianto asked incredulously.

Donna snorted. "Forget it, Ianto. That's the Sudan."

Mgumbe grimaced and nodded. "That is basically it, yes. We wouldn't even know this much if we hadn't run into a Gray Brother in Lodwar. He was there looking for medical attention himself. We were at the airfield waiting for Ms. Cooper's return. He said he would trade us information for someone to look at his knee. He was quite gleeful about his story." Mgumbe paused, and met Ianto's eyes. "Nurse Smith is of the opinion that he will never be able to walk with that knee again."

Ianto nodded slowly. "Thank you, Mgumbe. I guess knowing is better than not knowing."

Jack's nurse bustled back into the room, and frowned at the number of visitors. Jack squeezed Ianto's hand and asked if he would go check on Martha and the others for him as everyone gathered up their things and filed out of the room. Ianto nodded again, and leaned down to kiss him on the lips. It was not a particularly chaste kiss, and Jack's grin was back to megawatt when Ianto pulled away and followed Gwen out into the hall.

He offered Gwen his arm, and she smiled as she threaded her arm through it. "Ianto Jones. There is something you want to be telling me."

Ianto made a noncommittal sound, but couldn't prevent his own smile from growing larger and larger.  
Gwen actually giggled. "I'll get all the details from you, eventually, you know."

"And until that time, perhaps you can tell me what room houses the lovely Dr. Jones?"

Over the next few days, the survivors of Torched Wood recuperated, in body at least. Their current patients were fully absorbed into the Nairobi hospital's system, and Ianto was relieved to note that their impromptu trip in the back of the truck did not cause them more harm. Martha got stronger and checked out of the hospital, but was still there all the time anyway to see Jack. Jack was slower to get his strength back. He had lost a lot of blood. Sometimes Ianto thought it was a miracle he had survived at all, but he was careful not to voice this thought to Jack. Jack was incredibly impatient to get back to normal. It made him a restless and cranky patient. Ianto kept a rein on his own temper whenever Jack had these black moods, and was able to tell when Jack needed him to be there and when Jack needed his space. It was during these latter times that Ianto learned more of the battle at Torched Wood.

Gwen was eager to talk, eager to explain her actions; Rhys was self-deprecating and a little nervous; Mgumbe chose his words very carefully; Martha wanted to talk about anything but the fight; Sarah Jane heaped praise upon his head for getting Jack out alive; and Mickey wanted to go over each and every aspect of the attack. Then there were the debriefings with Dr. Sato and Donna. The rest of John Hart's band had returned to Torched Wood and completely burnt it to the ground in further retaliation. Much had to be decided. It was exhausting, and Ianto was grateful to escape back to Jack's room, bad mood or no. Jack himself avoided the subject, and Ianto was content to let him deflect for awhile. He knew they would have to talk about it eventually. Ianto spent his nights crammed into Jack's hospital bed with him. At first, the night nurse had tried to kick Ianto out, but Ianto's own credentials as a nurse helped to persuade her that she could leave Jack in his care at night. She never made mention of the fact that they shared the same bed.

The days passed slowly, and Ianto was surprised one morning to wake up and realize that it was already Christmas Eve. Gwen had been humming Christmas tunes for the past few days, and Rhys had stopped by and informed them that there was to be a service that night in the hospital chapel. When they arrived that evening, Ianto was actually a little surprised that it was so well-attended; in addition to about twenty patients and various family members, about a dozen doctors and nurses had crowded into the tiny chapel. Gwen had saved them seats in the front. Ianto suspected that she was seeing Rhys in a slightly different light after the attack on Torched Wood. His sister was a bit wild, but perhaps Rhys was just the person she needed to keep her grounded.

Rhys welcomed everyone to the chapel, and launched straight into the Christmas story. The combination of so many warm bodies in such a small space, the lowered lights, and the soothing quality to Rhys' voice was starting to have an effect on Ianto, and his eyelids drooped. Rhys cleared his throat, and Ianto started guiltily. "One of our patients has volunteered to sing a special song for us to help celebrate Christmas Eve. Dr. Harkness? Are you ready?"

Ianto looked at Jack in surprise. He didn't know Jack was planning to sing. "Don't blame Gwen," Jack whispered as he gingerly stood up and shuffled around to face the chapel.

"Good evening, everyone, and Merry Christmas."

The congregation dutifully echoed his greeting.

"I don't have any accompaniment for this song; in fact I just learned it this morning. It was apparently the favorite Christmas song in the Cooper-Jones household when Gwen and Ianto were young, and Gwen mentioned in passing how much she missed hearing it around the holidays. So, 'Noel: Christmas Eve, 1913' for you all."

Ianto's breath caught in his throat. _‘I'm in a hospital chapel in Africa, and my . . . boyfriend . . . is serenading me with a John Denver song. This is insanely surreal,'_ he thought. Gwen reached over to him and gripped his hand. They used to watch John Denver's Christmas special with the Muppets every year, and always re-wound to this song.

The song was about a soldier in World War I, on Christmas Eve during a cease fire. As Jack's voice broke over him (and Jack had a lovely singing voice, strong and clear), Ianto thought how oddly appropriate the song was for him. Ianto imagined Jack as a soldier, an easy image to conjure, stopping on a hill and being overwhelmed by the beauty of the stars. The juxtaposition worked; the physicality of soldiers in battle with the prospect of death always so close, and the ephemeral radiance of a starry sky. 

_A frosty Christmas Eve, when the stars where shining  
I traveled for the home, where westward falls the hill   
And for many, many a village, in the darkness of the valley   
distant music reached me, peels of bells were ringing. _

_Then spread my thoughts to olden times, to that first of Christmases  
when shepherds who were watching, heard music in the fields   
and they sat there and they marveled, and they knew they could not tell   
whether it were angels, or the bright stars a-singing _

_But to me heard a far, it was starry music  
the singing of the angels, the comfort of our Lord   
words of old that come a traveling, by the riches of the times   
and I softly listened, as I stood upon the hill   
and I softly listened, as I stood upon the hill._

There was a deep silence when Jack finished the song. He shuffled awkwardly back to his seat, and only then did people start to clap, long and loud, for him. Gwen hugged him and whispered, "Thank you." 

Ianto didn't know what to say, so he just took Jack's hand in his and squeezed. He had no trouble staying awake for the rest of the service. After the Benediction, they said good night to Gwen and Rhys; Martha, Sarah Jane, Mgumbe and Mickey; Dr. Sato and Donna. They would all meet late the next morning for a Christmas brunch at the hospital. 

Ianto and Jack made their slow way back to Jack's room. Ianto helped him into bed, took off his own clothes and then crawled under the covers with him. Jack shifted so that his head was above Ianto's heart, his fingers drawing lazy patterns on Ianto's lightly furred chest.

"Jack?"

"Hmmm?"

Ianto took a deep breath. "What's going to happen when you leave the hospital?"

"I get to ride in a wheelchair out to the curb."

Ianto sighed. "I'm serious."

Jack did not pause in his drawing. "Do we have to talk about this tonight? It is Christmas Eve."

Ianto capitulated, and cursed himself for doing so. "No, you're right. That's a worry for another day. You should sleep." He kissed Jack's forehead, and tightened his arms around him.

Jack did pause then, and lifted his head to gaze at Ianto. "Ianto, whatever is going to happen, we'll have had this time together. That's good, isn't it?"

"Yup, seize the day, and all that." Ianto fixed a smile on his face and wished Jack would look away.

He didn't. "I meant what I said. In the helicopter. I love you."

Ianto's smile became more natural. "Good."

"Good? All I get back is a good?"

"Ummm . . . good night?" Ianto teased him.

Jack growled, and seized his face, pulling him in for a possessive kiss. The kiss continued, deepened, and Ianto moved his body carefully over Jack's, afraid of hurting him. They finally broke for air.

"Ianto, help me out of these stupid pajamas."

"Are you sure? You should really be cleared by your doctor –"

"I am a doctor. And I say I need sex, now, or I will burst."

Ianto pretended to consider. "Well, that would be messy. I think I should help you."

Ianto unbuttoned Jack's pajama top and gently slid his arms out before dropping the shirt over the side of the bed. He paused at the sight of Jack's bandage, his fingers smoothing down the corners.

"Jack, you're absolutely–"

"Oh my God, Ianto, do you have any idea what you do to me?! I am painfully horny right now! Look, if it makes you feel any better, I will fuck you lying down, no harm to my precious bandages. Just please, take off my pants!"

Ianto gave him a reproachful look, which was slightly ruined by his own excitement at what Jack was suggesting. "Try to keep your voice down; this is a hospital," he whispered, pulling at Jack's pajama bottoms and boxers and dropping them over the side of the bed with the pajama top. Ianto looked down. Well. Jack certainly looked ready to have sex. Ianto hadn't planned ahead, so he slid down Jack's body and took him in his mouth. Jack groaned loudly, and stuffed his fist in his mouth when Ianto paused to raise a disapproving eyebrow at him and look meaningfully at the door. Jack's other hand stroked Ianto's hair encouragingly. Ianto chuckled softly. Jack bucked at the sensation, and whispered Ianto's name. Ianto moved back up his body and replaced Jack's fist with two of his own fingers. Jack looked strangely serious as he sucked on Ianto's fingers, and Ianto could feel something in his heart open up. He tamped down on the feeling. Jack may have said he loved Ianto, but that was not a promise of forever. Ianto didn't know if he even wanted forever, but the expression on Jack's face at this moment made it harder for him to figure out his own feelings. Withdrawing his fingers from Jack's mouth, he slowly worked them into himself, opening himself up. Jack stared at him for a moment, and tried to rise to kiss him. Ianto managed a slight glare, but it was difficult when he felt so very good. Jack frowned back, but then reached over to the bed remote and flicked the switch to move the head of the bed up. The sudden movement startled Ianto, and he almost fell out of the bed, Jack's arms catching him and pulling him to his chest. Jack began to laugh quietly, and Ianto couldn't help but join him.

"Ianto! You have to be quiet!" Jack laughed into his ear between kisses.

"I am a master of stealth!" Ianto laughed back, kissing along Jack's neck and his bobbing Adam's apple as he continued to chortle quietly. Jack was still laughing as Ianto managed to re-straddle him and eased himself down onto Jack's saliva-slicked cock. Jack's last chuckle cut off into a decidedly less innocent moan. Ianto leaned over and captured Jack's lips with his own. Jack moved one hand to the small of Ianto's back to hold him steady, and the other hand began to slowly caress Ianto's already hard cock. Ianto had never fucked (or, he admitted to himself, a more apt phrase would be "made love") so slowly before in his life. He could feel each and every shift of Jack below him. Jack's hand burned into the small of his back. Jack's fingers were like gossamer one moment on his cock, and the next they brought him right to the edge, before coaxing him back to draw it out just a little longer. Jack's kisses were turning his brain to mush, and it was all Ianto could do to keep the both of them relatively quiet. Each time Ianto shifted on Jack's lap, taking more of Jack into him and then easing up again, Jack moaned and Ianto swallowed each sound into his mouth. Their eyes were locked on each other, and Ianto could feel himself glowing from the look in Jack's eyes. Jack made him feel like the most desirable creature on the planet. Jack let out a particularly loud moan, and Ianto tightened all around him. Jack came, crushing Ianto's lips to his own. His head fell back against the pillows, his eyes meeting Ianto's again. Jack reached over to the bed remote and put the bed back to normal. Ianto regretfully slid off of Jack, still achingly hard. Jack's arms tugged at him, pulling him up the bed as he slid further down it. Jack's mouth closed around him, and in less than two minutes, Ianto was coming into Jack's mouth. Jack lapped it all up, making sure no part of Ianto escaped him.

"Jack, Jack, I meant to say, not ‘good,' but I love you too. I do." Ianto's fingers were tangled in Jack's hair, and he could feel himself smiling witlessly, but he didn't care. Jack didn't answer, but crawled back up the bed and kissed him soundly. They soon fell asleep, arms around each other, feet entangled, mouths scant centimeters apart.

The next morning Ianto managed to get up before the nurse came in to check on Jack, so they were both suitably pajama-ed when she entered the room. 

Later that morning, all of the former employees and volunteers of Torched Wood met with Dr. Sato and Donna for Christmas Brunch. The talk inevitably turned to the future of the clinic. As full employees, Jack, Mickey, Sarah Jane and Mgumbe stood to be affected the most. Ianto and Martha were only supposed to be volunteering there for a couple of months, Gwen had other outposts on her route and Rhys would still need to travel out to the village. Dr. Sato had been evaluating the state of the Tyler Foundation's other clinics in Africa. There was one up in Ghana that would be happy to absorb Jack, Mickey and Sarah Jane, and Donna had suggested that Mgumbe stay on in Nairobi at the Africa Headquarters as an interpreter and community liaison. It would mean a substantial raise in pay and responsibility for the young man, and Ianto felt happy for him even as his stomach clenched at the thought of his impending separation from Jack.

All throughout the meal, as he smiled and laughed with the others, Ianto's eyes kept returning to Jack's. Jack had seemed happy with the Ghana assignment. There was supposedly a brilliant doctor in charge of that clinic. Ianto tried to stave off jealousy. Yes, Jack loved him, but what they had was one of those things, like a wartime romance, that could only survive in certain circumstances. Once you took away the threat of death, the culture shock, the geographic isolation, the romance would fade. Ianto tried to accept this, and smile, and wish the three heading to Ghana safe travels and many new adventures with the doctor there. He caught a couple of sympathetic glances from Martha, so he wasn't sure he was all that successful.

That evening, Jack's doctor came by his room and after a thorough check-up, declared him fit to leave the hospital the next day. After the doctor left, they undressed each other almost solemnly, both realizing that this was the last time. Ianto tried to memorize each plane and curve of Jack's body, all the tiny scars and miniscule wrinkles. He used his eyes, and hands, and tongue, fixing Jack in his memory. The look in Jack's eyes was almost painful in its mixture of desire and affection. Ianto wanted to remember that look forever. The sounds Jack made when he was totally absorbed by Ianto, his moans, the way his breath hitched, the way he chanted Ianto's name like it was a prayer; Ianto internalized them all into his private soundtrack for the future. The feel of Jack when he was in Ianto, and the feel of him when Ianto was in Jack, these were things that Ianto would be able to keep forever. And he knew that no matter who else he met in his life, who else he would come to love, he would never feel this passion with anyone else. As Jack fell asleep on Ianto's chest, a satiated smile on his full lips, Ianto allowed himself one tear.

Boxing Day was a flurry of packing up and checking out. Jack opted not to ride out in the wheelchair, which was just as well because the thing looked positively ancient. Dr. Sato and Donna picked them up from the hospital and drove them immediately to the airport. Donna would be going to Ghana with the three from Torched Wood to get them settled and do their semi-annual inspection. Ianto and Martha would be flying to London together, and Ianto would continue on alone to Cardiff. The others were already at the airport. Gwen threw her arms around Ianto in a crushing hug.

"I love you, duckling," she whispered in his ear.

He kissed her forehead. "Thank you for dragging my arse to Africa," he whispered back to her, and was rewarded with a gap-toothed smile.

Ianto shook hands with Mickey, Mgumbe, Rhys, Dr. Sato and Donna, and gracefully submitted to another hug from Sarah Jane. Then he got to Jack. He awkwardly held out his hand for a handshake, conscious of their colleagues and dozens of Kenyans and tourists moving through the airport. Jack just raised his eyebrows at him and pulled him into a hug. Ianto clung to him, hoping it would never end, but then Jack pulled away. Instead of letting him go, though, Jack cupped Ianto's face in his hands and kissed him deeply, totally heedless of their audience.

A voice came over the intercom, announcing the boarding for Ianto and Martha's flight to London. Ianto pulled back from Jack reluctantly. They didn't exchange words, just one look, and then Ianto turned, linked arms with Martha, and left them behind. He risked one glance back over his shoulder. Mickey and Sarah Jane were grabbing bags and shuffling tickets, Donna drew Dr. Sato's face up to hers for a quick kiss good bye – and how had he missed that!, but Jack was still watching them leave. Ianto raised his arm in farewell and Jack nodded in acknowledgement. Ianto's last sight of him was that patented Harkness grin that could make him go weak at the knees.

Martha's fiancée had upgraded their tickets to business class as a surprise for Martha, so they spent the flight swilling champagne, with their legs stretched out in front of them. Martha regaled Ianto with the tale of how she first met Dr. Jack Harkness, on a UN Peacekeeping mission in Serbia. The mission itself was a disaster, but she had found a lifelong friend in Jack, and in Owen a little later. Mention of Owen threatened to kill their buzz, so Ianto told Martha about falling off Jack's hospital bed. Martha inhaled champagne through her nose, and the rest of the flight they spent swapping increasingly raunchy stories and giggling madly.

Ianto didn't arrive at his flat in Cardiff until the next day. He was hungover and filthy, utterly exhausted and thoroughly lonely. His flat looked so much smaller and darker. Cardiff was even wetter and colder than he remembered. Being an eminently practical person, Ianto started his laundry, ran down to the corner store for milk, eggs, bread, butter and chocolate, and took an extremely long hot shower before collapsing on his bed and sleeping for fifteen hours.

 

**Three Months Later**

Ianto couldn't believe so much time had passed since he was last with Jack in the African sun. He had resumed his duties at the hospital in Cardiff. If his co-workers noticed a change in him, they kept their observations to themselves. Since he left Africa, he and Jack had exchanged several long letters, but there had been no phone calls. It was just as well. Ianto didn't think he would be able to maintain his professional demeanor if he heard Jack's voice again.

It was a particularly windy and rainy day in March when his life changed for good.

Ianto had prepped a small boy for a rough surgery that morning. The boy's parents had put on brave faces for their son, but fallen completely apart the minute he was wheeled out of his room. Ianto had patted their shoulders, and offered his hanky, and even got them coffee from the nurses' breakroom (which he had made himself). Barely two hours into the surgery, however, the little boy had flatlined and not come back. Ianto did not expect his parents' marriage to survive his death. They had finally had to sedate the couple when more relatives starting showing up at the hospital. Ianto had been much too busy to take his break, and had worked several hours over his shift. When he was at last able to escape, he walked along Mermaid Quay, taking in the sight of the Bay. Nowadays, the blue of the water always called to mind the blue of Jack's eyes. The sight soothed him.

By the time he made it down to the end of the quay, the sun was fighting to poke out of the clouds. Figures, there was less than an hour left of daylight anyway. Ianto leaned on the railing and gazed out across the water. If he squinted in this poor light, the waves could pass for the African savannah. He hadn't been standing there long when he sensed another man join him further down the railing. Ianto gave him a pleasant nod without even looking at him. The wind shifted again, and Ianto caught the distinct smell of musk and cinnamon, and that something undefinable that was simply Jack. Jaw dropping, he turned to face his companion.

"Surprised to see me, Ianto?" Jack asked.

Ianto nodded mutely. Jack looked beautiful in the failing light, all flashing teeth and sparkling eyes. He had a great big blue overcoat on to protect himself from the chill. Ianto ached to reach out and touch Jack, hold him near, breath him in. Find out why he was there and for how long. 

"I'm a little surprised to be here, myself. It happened so fast, and then it almost didn't happen at all." Jack smiled again, a little nervously. "Are you going to say anything, Ianto?"

Ianto shook his head, and reached out hesitatingly. He let his arm drop when Jack gazed out at the Bay, unseeing.

"I know I should have called first, but I wanted to say this in person. I did this all wrong." Jack sighed. "Martha told me I should call first," he muttered to himself. He seemed to steel himself. "Ianto, I need to talk to you about something very important." He looked beseechingly at Ianto.

Ianto nodded again. He still didn't trust his voice.

"Okay. Well. The doctor we've been working with in Ghana – he's incredible, Ianto, you would definitely like him –" Jack's voice picked up speed as he warmed to his topic "—anyhow, he's been asked to start a whole new clinic in Thailand – Sarah Jane's going to go with him, and we want to expand the one in Ghana, add an orphanage to it; that's why I'm here, we have to meet with the Foundation head in Cardiff. I want to do this with you. I want you to come to Ghana with me. So, that's, that's what I want. That's why I'm here," Jack's voice trailed off.

Ianto closed his eyes, convinced that when he opened them again, Jack would have disappeared and none of it would have happened. But when he opened them, Jack was still standing there, waiting expectantly, nervously. Ianto reached out and pulled him close, one hand at the nape of his neck, the other circling his waist and pulling him ever closer. He kissed him thoroughly, eyes wide open and drinking in the sight of Jack, here, in his arms. Wanting more.

They finally pulled away to breathe again. Jack's eyes caught the last of the sun's rays. _They were so impossibly blue_ , Ianto thought. _Why do they have to be so blue?_

"What do you say, Ianto? I met this woman, Harriet Derbyshire, I think she'll be great at running the orphanage, and you and I would have the clinic. Can't you picture it?" He smiled, hope shining out of his eyes. And something else. It looked like the future. How could he say no to that? It was impossible, really.

Ianto took one look over Jack's shoulder at the Bay. All that water, blue and beautiful. Ianto looked back at Jack, into his eyes. He smiled.

"Yes."

Chapter Two:  
GHANA

The wind carried with it a strong smell of salty sea air. It was almost strong enough to cut through the stench of over two million bodies broiling in the African sun that shone high over Accra, but not quite. The salt air and the body odor were joined by the smells of coriander, cumin, and cinnamon; tropical fruits from one market mixing with goats and sheep, entangling with the ripening smells of the fish market. Dr. Jack Harkness breathed it all in with a smile on his face.

Jack had reason to be happy. Three weeks ago he had officially taken command of Torched Wood III in Ghana, and he was determined that this incarnation of Torched Wood would not go the same way as the first two. Ianto thought it a bit ridiculous to name the clinic after the charred remains of the clinic they had both worked at in Kenya, and more so to call it the third when he felt it should be the second, but Jack had insisted that their Torched Wood was named after the village that had burned, and was therefore the Second. Ianto had rolled his eyes, but painted "Torched Wood III – A Tyler Foundation Clinic" on the new sign, anyway. Jack liked the idea of having a team name. The doctor who had previously been in charge, though brilliant in every way, had not been one for team names. Jack was already missing his doctor, but he had assembled a good bunch of people for Ghana. In addition to himself and Ianto (Head Nurse, and, realistically, Head Admin), Mickey Smith was back with them as security, Harriet Derbyshire was setting up a connected orphanage, and Alex Hopkins and Beth Halloran were volunteering as doctor and nurse, respectively. Alex's specialty was internal medicine, and Beth came from a neonatal care ward in London. Alex was a recovering alcoholic and Beth was newly widowed; both turning toward their volunteer work in the hopes of a fresh start.

One more doctor was to arrive the next day. Andy Davidson was a childhood friend of Ianto and his older sister, Gwen. According to Ianto, Andy had carried quite the torch for Gwen since they were kids. Jack had some qualms about hiring Andy if he was just going to be a lovesick puppy, there to try to catch an occasional glimpse of Gwen. Ianto had assured him that Andy would be a great addition to the team, for himself and for his specialization in ophthalmology. Then Ianto had smiled at him, and Jack had completely caved. He supposed he didn't really have room to talk about lovesick puppies.

The other five members of Jack's staff had busied themselves with preparing quarters for Dr. Davidson. Unlike the clinic in Kenya, the Ghana clinic and hospital, and soon to be orphanage, had space enough for each staff member to have their own room. Jack was profoundly grateful for this. He did not relish having to sneak into Ianto's bed each night, though due to the culture they were living in, he and Ianto did not advertise their relationship outside of the clinic. Since Ianto was not exactly the touchy-feely type, it wasn't much of an imposition on him. Sometimes, though, Jack wanted nothing more than to run his fingers across Ianto's shoulders, no matter who was present, or mark him as his own where everyone could see. Jack did not get overly attached to material possessions, a result of his continual travels, but people were a different story.

***

Harriet had volunteered to pick Andy up at the airport, as she was also expecting a shipment of books for the orphanage that day. Jack was expecting them back in time for lunch. Noon rolled around, and Harriet called to say they were running late. Jack grabbed a bite to eat with Ianto and Beth at 13:00, but still no sign of them. Alex and Mickey ate hurriedly half an hour later, but still no Harriet or Andy. At 14:00, Harriet called to say they were leaving Customs. Jack had never heard her sound so annoyed. It took them almost another full hour to drive up to the gate.

Mickey's voice came over the intercom in the exam room, where Jack was slowly going over dosages in halting Akan to a mother with three young boys, who were proceeding to raise holy terror in spite of their runny noses and watery eyes.

"Jack. Ianto there?" Mickey's voice sounded tinny and tiny over the speaker.

"Um…Room 12," Jack said, downshifting to English again. "Oh. Harriet back with our new doc?"

"You could say that." Now Mickey sounded distinctly amused. "Come up here when you get a chance; I'll contact Ianto."

Jack struggled to wrap-up his instructions, but was interrupted by his patient. "Dr. Harkness. You do realize English is the official language of Ghana, yes?"

Jack gaped. "Well, yeah, but you've always spoken to me in Akan."

She smiled slowly. "That is because it was amusing. But I hear that you are busy, so if you would like to finish these in English…" she said, gesturing with her bottle of pills.

She was chuckling as she led her three hellions out the door and down the corridor. Jack frowned after her, hurriedly gathered up the papers and other detritus left by the family, chucked it in the bin, and trotted off to the front of the clinic.

Harriet Derbyshire was another, like Ianto, who liked to keep a reign on her emotions, and appeared very even-tempered in public. She was a young woman with a great responsibility, and the serious demeanor to go with it. She also had the most experience of anyone on the staff, including Jack, at working and living in Africa. The daughter of Salvation Army missionaries, she had spent the first twelve years of her life in the bordering country of Burkina Faso. She had spent time in the Congo, South Africa, and Mozambique, as well. She spoke four different African languages. She was also as mad as Jack had ever seen her after just one afternoon with Dr. Andy Davidson.

Ianto was already in the courtyard, conferring quietly with a shorter, strawberry-blond man that Jack took to be Andy. Harriet was unloading the jeep, slamming boxes of books onto the clinic's pushcart. If looks could kill, Andy would have burned to a crisp from just one glance directed at him by Harriet. Jack sighed, and scrubbed a hand through his hair. He hated dealing with personnel issues.

"Dear, sweet Harriet. Let's not destroy these books that the good people of Cambridge have sent us, hmm?" Jack grabbed the last box and placed it gently on the pushcart, flashing his winning grin at Harriet.

It did not have its usual effect.

"Jack Harkness. You keep that social ingrate away from me," Harriet spoke with a fierce conviction that was, per usual, very difficult to ignore.

"How about you tell me what happened, sweet lady?"

"Shall I begin with the fact that he is inebriated? Or that his inability to fill out a form cost us an additional three hours in Customs? Or that he tried to smooth over the situation by telling the official that I was his wife?" Harriet managed to keep her voice level through this recitation, but all the same, Jack winced at that last one.

"Ms. Derbyshire?" Jack hadn't even heard Andy and Ianto walk up to them, but there they were, Andy looking rather abashed. If he had been wearing a hat, he would have doffed it and passed it nervously from hand to hand. "I'm terribly sorry I upset you. You see, I really don't do well with flying. At all. And some of my mates thought it would be a good idea to have a pint or two to get over my . . . aversion. . . to flying, and, well. . . I am terribly sorry."

He gave her a pleading look. Ianto gave her the One Eyebrow Cocked.

"Dr. Davidson. This is a Tyler Foundation clinic and orphanage. We have a certain reputation and dignity which we must uphold," Harriet said firmly. Andy looked crestfallen. "That being said, I know the flight over can be a bit of a bear. In the future, perhaps you should just try a sleeping pill? And for heaven's sakes, don't refer to me as your wife!"

"No, of course not. I mean, sorry, I was trying to help, I can see how that didn't come across well…" Andy's voice trailed off. "I'll buy you a pint, eh?"

"I don't drink." Harriet turned to face Jack again. "Jack. Could I ask for your help with a wiring issue in one of the classrooms?"

"Of course, I'll be right there."

Harriet seized the pushcart and headed off across the courtyard to the orphanage. Jack turned to face Ianto and Andy.

"Well! Great to have you on board, Andy. I'm Dr. Jack Harkness, you already know Ianto – he's going to give you the grand tour, introduce you to the others. Beth will help you out tomorrow with meeting some patients. Dinner will be in a few hours; we all try to eat together when the situation allows for it. It's my night, so it will be edible, and, perhaps, rather fantastic." Jack finished up his little spiel with a patented Harkness grin and a firm handshake. He left Andy looking quite flustered, and Ianto quite amused.

He spent a couple of hours working on wiring in the orphanage. Working for a non-profit foundation of one sort or another off and on for most of his adult life had made Jack a kind of jack-of-all-trades. Along with being an above-average cook, Jack was handy around mechanics and technology. If he had to, he thought he could probably build his own house and put together his own car. Not that he owned a car, or a house, for that matter.

Dinner that night was an exceptional pork loin roast. Most of their meals consisted of fish, or were vegetarian, but about once a week they splurged, all except Harriet. Ianto had scoured the markets for some green veggies (he may be a lousy cook himself, but he could shop with the best of them) and Jack had also made a pan of mealie bread with some fresh herbs. Jack was satisfied that Andy's first meal at Torched Wood III, at least, was of high quality. The next night was Ianto and Alex, which could get a bit iffy.

Harriet was still a bit sore towards Andy during the meal. Andy did not help his case by putting the biggest, juiciest piece of roast on Harriet's plate. She was what Jack referred to (but not to her face) as a half-assed vegetarian; meaning she didn't eat meat, but would eat seafood. Jack figured fish were animals too, and if he was going to eat a cow or a goat, he may as well show a fish the same courtesy. 

Andy tried to make up for his gaff by taking the roast off Harriet's plate, but just wound up spilling her food on the floor.

After the meal, Jack and Harriet had a meeting with a committee of pastors representing the Christian churches in Accra. They were very interested in Harriet's plans for the orphanage, and what would be taught at the school there. Their support was essential in getting the orphanage approved by the local government, and Harriett excelled at this form of diplomacy. She had spent most of her life involved with religious leadership of one kind or another in Africa, and her confidence lent her the necessary gravity despite her young age. Jack had very little to do in the meeting, as Ianto usually represented the clinic at these things, and wound up spending most of the evening fantasizing about what he wanted to do with Ianto later that night.

Ianto was asleep by the time Jack made it back to their room. The shades were up, to allow in the most breeze, and the moonlight traced the dips and curves of Ianto's body. Jack loved to see him like this. Ianto slept like a little kid, in the center of the bed, limbs akimbo, mouth open. Jack quickly stripped off his scrubs and crawled into the bed, lying on top of Ianto and using him as a full body pillow. Ianto barely stirred, shifting minutely to accommodate Jack's weight.

"You get Harriet settled down okay?" Ianto breathed the question.

"Settled, yes; okay, probably not. How's Andy adjusting?"

"Andy can adapt to just about anything," Ianto reassured him.

"Oh?"

There was a pause. "I told him we were partners, professionally and personally."

Jack rested his chin on Ianto's chest, and gazed at his closed eyes, eyelashes dark against his pale cheeks. "Did you tell him that I'm wildly in love with you, and that's the sole reason I prevented Harriet from exacting her revenge on him?"

Ianto's eyes flew open as he began to speak, his mouth curving into a smile, crinkling his eyes. "You are wildly in love with me, aren't you just?" 

Ianto hooked his leg around Jack's hip and rolled him onto his back. Jack grinned up at him, and stretched his neck for a kiss. He could hear Ianto pull open the nightstand and take out a tube. Jack moaned in anticipation, his kisses getting sloppier and deeper.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. "Ianto? This your room?"

Jack sent up a blue streak. Ianto was still breathing heavily. "Yeah give me a minute, Andy."

Andy opened the door at the "Yeah," however. Jack was not a shy man, and actually had quite the exhibitionist's streak. Inwardly, he gloated just a bit at the look of utter shock on Andy's face. Ianto, on the other hand, was thoroughly embarrassed. Since Andy didn't seem to get the hint, Jack reached up, took Ianto's face in his hands, and kissed him, before turning to Dr. Davidson.

"Did you need something, Andy?"

Andy had finally got his mouth closed. Jack figured he could feel sorry for him tomorrow, but for now, he just really wanted the man to leave. Ianto was scrambling to cover them both with the sheet. Jack glanced over at him, and was surprised by the look of utter lust on Ianto's face.

"You know what, Andy? It can wait until tomorrow. Unless the clinic's on fire?" Jack sent him a questioning glance. Andy mutely shook his head. "Well, then, Ianto will get you up at 06:00. Good night. Close the door on your way out, will you?"

Andy did just that.

"We'll make an exhibitionist out of you yet – ohhhh!" Jack cut himself off with a groan as Ianto wasted no time with more foreplay and swallowed him down. He lasted an embarrassingly short time before coming in Ianto's mouth. "Fuck, Ianto."

Ianto collapsed next to him on the bed, grinning a filthy grin. "You have a dirty tongue, Jack."

"Not dirty enough."

He took his time, breathing in Ianto's scent, lapping up his pre-come. Ianto was squirming underneath him when he finally drew him into the back of his throat, swallowing reflexively. Ianto came hard and messy, heels digging into the mattress. Jack moved back up the bed and spooned against him. Ianto leaned back to kiss him a few more times before nestling into his pillow. Jack nibbled at his ear and whispered, "I am wildly in love with you; you know that, don't you?"

Ianto drew his hand up to kiss his palm in answer. Jack drifted off to sleep, content.

Ianto woke him up a few hours later to make use of the tube of lube that was still on the bed. All in all, an exceptional night. Jack was considering having Andy interrupt them on a regular basis as he had Ianto up against the wall in their shower at 05:30 the next morning, though he wasn't sure if even his libido could handle too many nights like that. Still, three rounds of perfect sex put him in a fantastic mood to face the day.

It was still holding at 17:00, in spite of an exceptionally long surgery to try to repair a near-shattered femur on a twelve year old boy. He had been unloading boxes down at the docks when one slipped. Though Ghana was a relatively affluent country in comparison to some of its neighbors, there were still plenty of children doing jobs that should be done by stronger adults. Jack ended the surgery with moderate hopes for full recovery. Ianto had been at his side to assist the entire time. They barely had to talk during surgeries; their movements were just so in sync with each other. It made for faster, easier work.

Jack saw a couple of patients on his own after the surgery before Andy came to find him. Jack flashed him a big grin. Andy hadn't been able to look him in the eyes each time Jack had seen him that day.

"What's up, Andy?" Jack asked, with not a little hint of suggestion.

Andy managed not to blush. Impressive.

"Ianto mentioned that you recently received a shipment of eyeglasses, and I can't find him to ask where they might be stored."

"I bet he's in the kitchen; it's his night on KP duty. You have a patient in with you?"

Andy nodded.

"Okay, I'll go see where they are."

"Thanks, Jack." Andy finally met his eyes, and though he blushed, he also managed to smile.

Jack grinned back, and went off to find Ianto.

Ianto was in the kitchen, helping to prepare the fufu. He really was a crap cook, but there was not much you could get wrong with peeling potatoes. Harriet had laid out a precise number of regular potatoes and sweet potatoes, leaving nothing to chance after the disastrous Fufu Incident from Ianto's first week there. Ianto and Sarah Jane had done the meal prep in Kenya, but really, it was just Ianto following her instructions and doing most of the clean-up. Jack supposed they would have to hire a couple of cooks once the orphanage opened for business. Until then, everyone pitched in.

"Ianto! Apple of my eye, sugar in my coffee, Cheech to my Chong, do you know where we stored the eyeglasses from the Lions' Club?" Jack slipped an arm around his waist and pulled him into a wet kiss.

Alex looked up interestedly from where he was attempting to make a fish stew. It didn't exactly go with fufu, but it was the one thing Alex made well. Jack winked at him, and dipped a finger into the honey Ianto had already set out for the fufu and sucked it off. Alex gave a startled chuckle, and turned his attention back to the fish.

"You're incorrigible," Ianto sighed. "Get your fingers out of my honey."

"Where should I put them then?" Jack asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"The third shelf of the storage closet across from the exam rooms."

"Huh?" Jack blinked.

"Eyeglasses?" Ianto cocked his eyebrow in Jack's direction.

"Oh, yes. Thanks. Well, if everything's in hand here, I'll go check them out." Jack turned to leave.

"Jack, wait a moment, I think you got some honey on your chin."

Ianto moved close to him, backing him out of the kitchen and away from Alex's eyesight, tongue darting out to lick his chin. "There. All gone."

Jack grinned at him, and kissed him once, twice, thrice for good measure. He went off to rustle up the eyeglasses with a dopey smile on his face, knowing that Ianto was returning to the kitchen with the same dopey expression.

***

The next day, Alex was swamped with sick kids. There had been a flu outbreak at two of the schools in Accra. Ianto made all the staff wear masks, as they were unused to the strain of flu on this continent. They were all drooping by 22:00, but Jack counted the day as an unequivocal success, since no patients had to be hospitalized overnight and no one had died. Dinner had been put off for hours. Thankfully, it was Mickey and Harriet's turn, so it had at least been made as they were not part of the medical staff. Everyone gathered in Mickey's guard station to down large bowls of vegetarian chili and thick slices of crumbly cornbread.

Mickey was the one who started it.

"Alright, you lot, you know what this reminds me of? Eating camp food around a makeshift fire," he gestured to the flickering screen of the CCTV, which showed a view of the road outside their gate. "Just like the good old days, eh Jackie Boy? And what do soldiers around a campfire do?"

Andy looked puzzled. "Are you going to get out a harmonica?"

"Much better – I'm going to tell a story that will curl your hair," Mickey assessed Andy, and looked around at the others. All but one had at least slightly curly hair. "Right, it will curl Jack's hair, then. I call it ‘Robots Take Over the World.'"

Jack groaned loudly. He had heard this one before.

"Quiet you. It's going to curl your hair."

Mickey launched into a bloody little tale, using his cutlery to make various points, about robots from another dimension taking over London by some crazy pod-person method. Beth looked rather freaked out, but relaxed a bit as Harriet began to pepper Mickey with questions.

"You say that the robots become human, but how can you tell the difference? Do they sound the same? What do they look like?"

Mickey scowled at her. "They suck the brains out of humans! The point is *not* to be able to tell the difference! Except some of the really hot robot women wear metal bikinis."

Andy laughed heartily at that, and Harriet looked at Mickey with disgust. "That is so improbable."

"Do you even know the point of campfire tales?" Mickey asked her.

"Harriet! Perhaps you have a story for us?" Jack broke in as Harriet opened her mouth angrily to reply to Mickey.

She paused, then nodded. "Right. I have a ghost story. Like you would tell around a campfire."

Mickey rolled his eyes.

Harriet leaned forward and began the tale of Tommy, a young soldier snatched from his encampment during the Great War, and forced into servitude by Death, made to escort the souls of dead soldiers from life to the underworld. Harriet was actually an engrossing story-teller, and Jack found himself settling into the story. He was sitting on Mickey's desk, and his foot rested on Ianto's folding chair. Ianto circled his ankle with his hand, thumb gently caressing his heel as Harriet spoke of Tommy's love, who tried to make a deal with Death to take his place. Death wouldn't allow it, and as punishment for her temerity, he banished Tommy to the deepest bowels of the Underworld, where he languishes to this day, pining for his lost love.

Andy was gazing at her with a rapt expression as she concluded her tale. Jack leaned across Ianto and gently nudged him in the shoulder.

"Andy?"

He gave himself a shake. "Uh, right. My turn? I have a bit of a spooky-do for you lot, all the creepier for being real."

Mickey shot him a skeptical look.

"Indeed it is! Just ask Ianto; he was there."

"Is this the one about the – ?" Ianto asked, making a curious gesture with his hands.

"Yeah. Okay. The setting: Flat Holm, formerly home to an insane asylum. The location: deserted island in the middle of Cardiff Bay. The protagonists: one Andy Davidson, one Ianto Jones, and one Gwen Cooper."

Jack shifted on the desk, bringing his other leg down so that Ianto had something to lean on other than his flimsy chair. Andy's story was not especially creepy, but Jack loved hearing about the adolescent Ianto Jones. Ianto had somehow talked a fisherman into loaning them his boat, and they had packed some food and sleeping bags and sailed out to the island for a weekend. The first night they were there, the wind and rain were so terrible, they had to take shelter inside the abandoned asylum. Andy's voice hushed, as he attempted to set the appropriate atmosphere. He was thwarted by a loud snore from Alex's corner of the room ("Sorry, old chap," Alex apologized, even managing to look slightly sorry; that was a useful skill), and Andy fumbled to get his train of thought back on track.

"So then, then Gwen realizes that the scratchings on the wall are actually words, but not in English or Welsh. They're some kind of alien tongue!"

("Except for the wall that said ‘chips with vinegar, please,'" Ianto murmured to Jack.)

"And then we came across a room, filled with fake body parts!"

Everyone perked up at that.

"So…sex?" Mickey asked.

"Huh? No! We were followed around by one of the fake hands!" Andy cried.

"I thought you said this was a true story," Harriet said, frowning.

"It is! Ask Ianto!"

Everyone turned to look at Ianto. Jack began to chuckle.

"The hand really did move on its own," Ianto agreed, staunchly supporting his old friend.

"Ha!" Andy shot Harriet a triumphant look.

"Alright, then, what did the hand do?" she asked.

"Come on, it was creepy. It was a _disembodied hand_!"

Mickey couldn't keep a straight face anymore and started to laugh along with Jack. Then Harriet sniggered, Beth caught the giggles, and even Alex cracked a smile.

"You all are a bunch of wankers!" Andy threw up his hands in disgust.

"Hey!" Ianto protested, indignantly.

"'Cept for you, Ianto," Andy corrected himself.

"Indubitably." Ianto clapped his hands together. "Time for my story."

Ianto told a truly disgusting story about a band of cannibals living in a remote Welsh village. Jack was a little shocked at how descriptive he got, painting a picture with his words of teeth dripping with blood and farmers beating their prey with baseball bats to tenderize them. Ianto's hands clenched in fists throughout his tale, and he only relaxed when he described how the hero appeared at the last minute on his noble steed, and decapitated the cannibalistic villagers, freeing the innocent travelers who had fallen into their clutches.

"Wow, Ianto mate, that was truly gory," Mickey said admiringly when Ianto had finished. "Thanks."

Ianto gave him a slight smile.

"I have one with a lot of blood, too," Beth spoke up.

"Let's hear it then!" Mickey enthused.

Beth's story was actually chilling. She had a low-pitched voice that was very soothing to babies. It was disconcerting to hear those same tones speak about a thief who broke into a house and was subsequently stalked by the possessions he did _not_ steal. He was finally cornered in an alley by a roll of gaffer's tape and a pair of scissors.

". . . and the coppers found bits of the thief washed up on the riverbank for the next three months," Beth finished in her gentle voice.

Everyone looked slightly taken aback. Jack cleared his throat. "That was excellent, Beth, thank you. Alex, you have something on a lighter note, perhaps?"

Alex looked up, bemused. "I'm Alex, Jack. I don't really do ‘light.'"

He stood up and walked into the middle of the room. "Ten years ago," he began, "I had a practice in the north of Scotland, in the Orkney Islands, in a tiny village of about fifty souls. It was where my aunt had grown up, and I went there to take care of her for a month and wound up staying for a year. 

"One of my frequent patients was a young woman, Mary, who was married to a fisherman named Mac. No one ever called him by his full name; I never even learned what it was. The point is that he wasn't around much, and Mary was left to her own devices, trying to raise six young children.

"She spent weeks cooped up with them in their small cottage, as they didn't have a car, and Mac had the boat out on the water. Whenever I paid a house call, she would tell me about her neighbors, complaining that they were messy and noisy and much too interested in her children. It worried me, actually, and I talked to the local police. They told me her neighbors were a perfectly harmless older couple; the man was bedridden and the woman had extreme arthritis and couldn't leave the house in the winter.

"One night there was a devastating storm, caused loads of damage. I drove out to check on Mary."

Alex paused in his tale, and looked off into the distance. Whatever he saw there made him grimace in pain.

"Mary had killed them all. All six of her children. One had a blackened face from poison. Another was hanging from the rafters. Two of them had been butchered with an axe. The youngest had been suffocated. And the last child was stabbed to death. 

"Mary was still alive. She said she was waiting for Mac. She had to talk to Mac, to warn him that something was coming for him. I asked her what had happened there. She said the neighbors were going to take her children, so she took them first. I stepped out of the cottage to use my phone. When I looked back inside, she was starting a fire. She had gas for Mac's boat, and she poured it all over the front room. I was – I think I was a little in shock, because for some reason it didn't occur to me that she was planning to burn herself to death. But that's what happened. She lit a match and whoosh! She was gone very quickly, but the cottage was wet from the storm. It took hours.

"Mac's body washed up on shore the next day. His boat had overturned in the storm. He drowned at the same time the rest of his family died."

There was a deep silence before Jack finally found his voice. "Alex, that is a _terrible_ story."

"It's true, though," Alex replied calmly.

"And terrible." Jack slid off the desk. "Right, you lot. I think it's high time I turned in for the night, work to do tomorrow."

"Come on, Jack, you haven't told us a story," Mickey protested, just like a little kid.

"Anticipation, Mickey."

Mickey laughed, and everyone got to their feet, shuffling towards the door. Ianto allowed Jack to sling his arm around his shoulders as they left the guardroom.

That night Jack clung to Ianto a little closer than usual. He couldn't shake Alex's story from his thoughts. He could see the dead bodies in his mind's eye, mixing with corpses from battlefields in Serbia, the ocean-bloated remains of tsunami victims in Thailand, and the dead of all of the other places Jack had practiced medicine throughout the years. Ianto's breath, instead of being deep and even, was coming in a wheezing rattle, providing a melancholy soundtrack to Jack's nightmares. His worst ones were of the attack on Torched Wood in Kenya. He didn't like to talk about it, but he was haunted by the image of Ianto standing over him in a protective crouch, clutching a gun he had no idea how to fire. They had managed to protect each other then, but what about the next time? Jack shivered, and wrapped himself firmly around Ianto's body.

The next morning it was apparent that Ianto had definitely caught the flu from yesterday, despite all of his precautions. Jack banned him from seeing patients, and Ianto reluctantly went back to their bed. Jack checked on him periodically, bringing him tea and drugs, and cold cloths for his forehead. It was a busy day at the clinic. Beth had double the workload, and Jack helped her as best he could. She told him privately that she didn't mind the very busy days; she preferred having something to occupy her mind. Jack knew how that felt. At the end of the day, Andy volunteered for his first night of on-call so that Jack could concentrate on seeing to Ianto's needs. (Jack wasn't sure if Andy was aware of how much innuendo he let slide by.)

Jack carefully balanced a cold bottle of clear apple juice, a small plate of toast, and a couple of little bottles of pills on a tray and carried it up to his and Ianto's room. It didn't look like Ianto had moved since Jack last checked on him.

"Ianto? Hey, Beautiful, time for some meds," Jack called softly, kicking the door closed behind him.

Ianto groaned and buried his head deeper under the pillows.

"Come on, now, this will make you feel better," Jack wheedled.

"Is it that nasty tea that definitely does not do anything?" Ianto rasped out.

"Nasty tea, nasty tea…nope! No nasty tea here," Jack said with the false cheer one adopts around the sick, inwardly cringing at his tone. He never used it around his patients, but when it came to his family…and then he almost tripped on his way to the bed, realizing that he had just thought of Ianto as his family.

Ianto was squinting at him. "All right there, Jack?" he asked, sounding bemused.

"Fine, fine," Jack assured him, plastering on a grin that quickly became sincere when Ianto sat up and groped for the apple juice. Some people did not carry off the "sick" look well at all. Ianto's pale skin and dark hair was made for the flush of a bad cold, however. Jack let his eyes wander down the other man's body as Ianto shook out a couple of pills, swallowed them down (and, wow, Jack could write a sonnet about that man's throat), and started in on the toast. He was, of course, holding the little plate under his chin to catch any errant crumbs. It just turned Jack on even more, and really, since when had cleanliness become one of _his_ kinks?

Jack sat on the edge of the bed and toed off his boots and socks. He stood to lift up his scrub shirt and toss it in the corner. Ianto was watching him through half-closed slits as he licked the crumbs from his fingers. Jack swept off his scrub bottoms and boxers with one practiced move and tossed them aside to join his shirt.

"Jack. You're naked," Ianto said slowly as Jack walked on his knees across the bed to Ianto.

"Astute observation, Nurse Jones," Jack murmured, taking the plate from Ianto's hands and sliding it back onto the tray.

"But I'm sick," Ianto feebly protested as Jack straddled him and began to suck at his neck.

"What is it with you and your careful observations? I'm beginning to think you have eyes and skin. Such beautiful eyes and skin," Jack continued, licking the hollow of Ianto's throat.

Ianto tried one more time. "But – I mean, I can't –"

"Don't worry about anything. I can take care of both of us." Jack looked up from his ministrations, moving lower on Ianto's chest. "Let me take care of you," he said softly.

Ianto held his gaze, and nodded slowly. Jack lifted his body off Ianto's, and helped him stretch back out on his back before lowering himself once more, grinding against him. Ianto's breath began to quicken, his wide blue eyes filling with what Jack privately labeled ‘Ianto's Trust & Adoration Look.' Jack felt himself flush with pride and love to get the Look. He bent his mouth to Ianto's and began to kiss him slowly, starting at the corners of his lips before moving to a fuller kiss, darting in with his tongue, and breaking often for air in deference to Ianto's stuffed nose. 

Jack caressed Ianto's sides with his hands, murmuring sweet nothings into his mouth between kisses. His left hand settled around Ianto's hip, his right moving over to grip them both. Ianto gasped into his mouth at the first tug. Jack grinned, and added grinding. Ianto threw his head back, gasping for air, but his own hands were firmly holding Jack in place at the small of his back. Jack redoubled his efforts, his fingers rubbing them both together, getting close to the edge himself at the sight of Ianto spread out in front of him, barely holding on. One more caress-like tug, and Ianto came in Jack's hand, Jack's name on his lips. Jack leaned farther down and bit into that neck he loved so well and came with a violent shudder.

He rolled off of Ianto and kissed his forehead, breathing in the scent of him, sweat-soaked and sick, but still his Ianto. Ianto grinned lazily up at him, a sated expression on his face. "Thank you, Dr. Harkness."

Jack snorted. "The pleasure was half mine, Nurse Jones." He kissed him again, this time on the lips.   
"I'm going to get you a cold cloth. Don't go anywhere," he admonished playfully. Naked, he padded into their bathroom and poured some bottled water over a large washcloth. Wringing it out somewhat, he padded back over to the bed and wiped down Ianto's sweat-soaked brow.

"Ummmmmm…that feels good…"

Jack continued down his neck and chest, belly and crotch and legs. Finally he scrubbed off his own stomach, rinsed out the cloth, and crawled back into bed. Ianto moved onto his side, facing Jack. Jack smiled at him, and moved a wet lock off his forehead to kiss him yet again. "Sleep now, Ianto."

"I love you, Jack," Ianto whispered, closing his eyes slowly. He looked so innocent and young like this. Often, Jack forgot that he had fifteen years on his partner; Ianto seemed so much older. It was at moments like this that Jack allowed himself to wonder what life would be like if he was a parent. When Ianto was defenseless and trusting, so full of love, Jack thought that, just maybe, he would like to be one. Sighing, he closed his own eyes and tried to fall asleep.

"Jack."

"Hmmmm."

"Tell me a story."

Jack cracked an eye open. Ianto was still lying on his side, watching Jack through half-closed feverish eyes.

"You should get some sleep," Jack said gently.

Ianto nodded, eyes opening wider to fix Jack with a pleading look. "Maybe a story will help."

Jack chuckled, pulling Ianto closer, and scoffing at his protestations that Jack would get sick now, too. "I never get sick. Besides, after what we just did, I don't think a little snuggling is going to make a difference."

Ianto flushed even deeper, but moved closer to Jack, resting his head in the crook of Jack's neck and entangling his feet with Jack's.

"Have I ever told you about how I came to meet Rose Tyler?"

Jack felt Ianto stiffen against him, and breathe out a "no."

Jack smiled sadly. "Relax, Ianto. I want to tell you about her now. It's a good story; one of my favorites."

***

Ianto was feeling loads better the next morning, but Jack told him to take it easy. He went off to the orphanage instead, to help Harriet with installing screen doors. They were still on track to open in a couple of weeks, and Harriet talked excitedly about some local women who had approached her to inquire about job opportunities. Around midday, Jack and Ianto met up in the kitchen and Jack forced him to eat some thin stew. Andy came looking for Ianto, and pulled him aside for a private word. Jack leaned way back in his chair in order to still see Ianto in the doorway. The sun was high overhead, and only the breeze from the ocean made the heat at all bearable. Still, Ianto looked put-together and calm in his white nurse's uniform, heedless of the sweat that sheened his body. Jack loved that uniform. It described Ianto well, as it was indicative of certain rules and regulations, but it also was a symbol that the wearer, Ianto, was a caregiver. It was also a whole lot of fun to unbutton and peel off. Jack had quite the smirk on his face when Ianto rejoined him.

"Don't you look like the cat that got the canary," Ianto remarked, smiling slightly.

"Me?" Jack asked with false innocence, taking Ianto's hands in his own. "What did Andy want?"

Ianto huffed a laugh, letting Jack pull him into an embrace between his knees. "He was wondering if I could pick up some fresh herbs for him. He and Beth are supposed to make dinner tonight, and he's hoping to impress Harriet."

Jack trailed the back of his finger down Ianto's cheek, pleased when Ianto's eyes crinkled into a smile. "Andy a decent cook?" he asked.

"Not in my experience," Ianto replied. "He's going to need all the help he can get."

"Hmmmm. I guess you're going shopping, then?"

"My sacred duties as a wing man demand it," Ianto answered earnestly, the twinkle in his eyes belying his serious demeanor. 

"That's good; you should probably still have a little time away from patients."

Ianto rolled his eyes, "Thank you, Dr. Harkness."

Jack walked with him over to the entrance gate, waving to Mickey as they passed. Ianto stopped at the threshold. Jack really wanted to kiss him, but Ianto wouldn't appreciate the risk he took. He was surprised, then, when Ianto reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. It was just the barest of touches, but Jack felt the heat through his already sun-warmed scrubs and sweaty skin.

"I'll see you in a couple of hours, Dr. Harkness."

"Hurry back, Nurse Jones."

Ianto gave him a brief smile before turning and walking down the street. The buildings around Torched Wood III all made use of white stucco, and, coupled with the midday glare, it gave the slightly eerie impression that Ianto was a disembodied head floating off down the street. 

_At least it's not a hand,_ Jack thought to himself, remembering Andy's mangled story. There was an old man hunkered down in a doorway across the way that Jack vaguely recalled having seen before, and he nodded a greeting to him before going back into the compound. 

Several hours later, Jack rubbed an ache out of the small of his back, and gave Beth a grateful smile.

"Thanks for helping with the surgery, Beth. I really didn't want Ianto in the room with a lowered immune system. Or to infect anyone else, of course," he added. He bowed to her and offered his arm. "May I escort you to the kitchen, m'lady?"

"My, what lovely manners!" she laughed, taking his arm.

"I've been told to expect great things from this meal. Andy is a highly unusual cook," Jack confided to her.

"Is he now?"

"Yes. He even sent Ianto off in search of fresh herbs."

She smiled fondly. "You pronounce that like such an American."

He opened his mouth to reply as they entered the kitchen, but closed it with a frown, looking around. The kitchen was empty. No herbs, no Ianto, no note explaining where the herbs were, no note explaining where Ianto was.

"That's funny. He should have been back here hours ago."

Jack surveyed the empty kitchen again, but of course nothing had changed. "I'll give him a call."

Beth nodded, and began taking things out of cupboards. Ianto's phone went to voicemail as Andy rushed into the kitchen, breathless.

"Ianto get the herbs?" he asked, looking around.

"No, and I can't raise him on his mobile," Jack answered, frowning down at his phone. "Neither of you have heard from him this afternoon, right?" Jack asked the other two, beginning to feel the first tendrils of panic seep into his brain. He didn't wait for their answer; it was obvious they hadn't.

He called Harriet, and then Alex. Nothing. He was hitting the intercom for Mickey when Mickey's voice called for him, instead.

"Jack? You there? I think you need to come to the guardhouse."

"Is it Ianto? We can't find him–"

"I'm not sure."

Jack practically flew to the guardhouse.

Mickey was inside with a little boy who looked somewhat familiar. Jack frowned. One of the holy terrors. Whose mother spoke English.

"Jack, Nehemiah here has a message for you," Mickey said, nodding to the child.

Nehemiah smiled. "Samaritan," he pronounced, triumphantly.

Jack blinked down at him. "Are you looking for someone called Samaritan?" He repeated his question in halting Akan.

The little boy shook his head, pouting. "Robbers beat your brother. Mother is the Samaritan!"

It took Jack a long moment to translate that from Akan into English, and then he gasped as understanding flooded him. "Ianto? Ianto is hurt? Can you take me to him?"

The little boy nodded, and gestured for Mickey to come closer. "Lots of robbers. You come too."

"Oh my God," Jack's knees almost gave way. "Okay. Hold on. Mickey, the intercom–"

Mickey had already hit it. "Listen up, everyone! There's been an incident. Jack and I are going to go investigate."

Jack moved closer to the intercom. "Harriet, would you mind coming up to the guardroom while we're away? If anyone comes to the clinic, you have the authority and language skills to deal with them. Beth, can I ask you to come with us? It might be dangerous–"

"I'll come," she interrupted.

"Good. Alex and Andy, we have several patients staying overnight; you'll have to monitor them and keep them safe. You should station yourselves at the guardroom with Harriet, but she's in charge if anyone shows up!"

"But, what happened to Ianto? I want to help you get Ianto–"

Andy's voice sounded almost as freaked out as Jack felt.

"Andy, this is first and foremost a clinic. We need to take care of our patients. Beth and I can take care of Ianto if anything has happened," he swallowed hard, "and Mickey will be with us if anything gets out of hand. You three sit tight and hold down the fort. We'll be calling you."

Beth had made it up to the guardroom by then, bringing two med kits. Nehemiah watched with wide eyes as Mickey proceeded to arm himself, offering Jack a handgun, which he hesitated not a moment before taking.

Harriet, Alex and Andy hurried up.

"Go, Jack," Harriet urged, throwing her arms around him, "I'll be praying for you."

Andy just gave him a look like his heart was breaking.

"Buck up, Andy," Mickey admonished him, clapping a hand on his shoulder, "We'll be back with him soon, you'll see."

Alex offered no words of encouragement to Jack, but said to Beth, "Try to keep those two from inciting an international incident, please."

And with that, Jack, Mickey and Beth slipped out the front gate and followed Nehemiah down the road. The little boy eyed them consideringly, apparently deciding that Mickey was safest, and took his hand. "Samaritan," he pronounced again, and led them further into the heart of Accra.

Jack was trying to remain calm, but his head kept coming up with worst-case scenarios. Ianto had been beaten by robbers, and was bleeding to death. Ianto had been beaten by robbers, was bleeding to death, and all of his bones were broken. Ianto had been beaten by robbers, was bleeding to death, all of his bones were broken, and his lungs had collapsed – both of them. Ianto had been beaten by robbers, was bleeding to death, all of his bones were broken, his lungs had collapsed – both of them, and Jack wouldn't be able to save him. He blinked rapidly to clear his eyesight. On his right, Beth was gripping her med kit so hard her dark brown hands were turning white. Jack inwardly cursed himself. He had dragged a new widow along to the site of his own lover's – not death. Not death. But he would be bleeding, and as Jack recalled, Beth's husband had been stabbed in an attempted robbery.

Beth glanced back over at him, and at the look on his face, she relaxed her hold (somewhat) on the med kit and reached over to grip his right hand in a reassuring squeeze.

"Don't worry, Jack. We're going to find him," she said solemnly.

Jack nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. Listen, are you going to be okay? I–"

"Therapy, Jack. I've had loads." She took a deep breath. "Right now I'm concentrating on Ianto."

Jack nodded again. "Thank you," he whispered.

Nehemiah kept up a steady pace, impressive for a tiny child, and they were soon skirting around the edges of Accra's political section. The government buildings were uniformly elegant, and built in a 19th century colonial style, which Jack would have found beautiful on any other day. He didn't come to this part of Accra often, except for once or twice to meet with officials on various licenses for the clinic and orphanage. Nehemiah paid the architecture no mind, and cut right through, bypassing Accra's growing financial district and leading them into the shantytowns on the opposite side of Accra from Torched Wood III.

The streets were much more crowded here, and narrow and paved with dirt. Jack stood out like a sore thumb, and he was thankful they'd left the jeep at the clinic; it would never have fit in the shantytown. Nehemiah led them on with a child's single-minded determination. Mickey's eyes roved continuously, and Jack kept looking behind them. If the "lots of robbers" were still at large, Jack did not want to be taken by surprise. He saw no one overtly suspicious, however. There were blankets spread out in front of most of the shacks, showcasing everything from t-shirts to candles to pots and pans. Women crouched behind them, eyeing passersby hopefully, or gossiping with their neighbors while another neighbor kept an eye on the goods. A swarm of little children, upon catching sight of Jack, made to follow them, but stopped at a few harsh words from Nehemiah. It wasn't Akan, so Jack had no idea what he said, just that it worked. Jack couldn't make out any meaning at all from the cacophony surrounding them; along with the children, and the women selling things, there were dogs barking, goats bleating, and chickens clucking. The noises blended together, as did their smells, and Jack had to shake himself to clear his head.

Nehemiah stopped abruptly, and Jack instinctively pulled Beth behind him. Nehemiah said "Samaritan" again, and ducked into an alleyway that barely deserved the name. Mickey followed close behind, Beth in the middle, Jack bringing up the rear.

Jack's breath caught in his throat. Intermingled with cooking and dust smells was the sharp tang of blood. _Ianto._  
Nehemiah pulled aside a curtain to the last shack in the row, and there he was. Jack's clinical eye assessed the situation as his heart pounded painfully in his chest.

"Mickey, secure the area and call Alex. Tell him to drive the jeep over to the last paved crossroad we passed on the way here. Beth, help me–" His voice failed him, and he shut his mouth with a snap. Beth was already kneeling down at Ianto's upper body, med kit open. Jack knelt on his other side. Vaguely, he was aware of Mickey talking to a woman he assumed was Nehemiah's mother, and getting on his phone; he had brought the SAT phone, just in case. Ianto would have approved of his foresight.

Ianto's legs were broken. It looked like part of his left fibula had pierced the skin, and the lower half of his lovely white uniform on his left leg was bright red. Someone had attempted to stop the bleeding there by tying a strip of dirty cloth around his leg. Farther up his body, a couple of ribs were broken. Jack's immediate concern was to ascertain if a lung had been pierced. Beth seemed to have the same thought, and she looked up at Jack, shaking her head. "I don't think his lungs are damaged," she said softly. She was already carefully taking off Ianto's formerly white button-down shirt. Jack bit his lip at the extent of damage revealed. Blood was pounding in his ears, and his hands were clenched in fists so tight that the pain managed to register on his brain, and he forced himself to unclench and continue his assessment. Coolly. Clinically.

Ianto had a black eye, and blood on the side of his face, but his cute little button nose would live to cute another day. He would probably retain a scar on his cheek from the slash under his right eye, but Jack didn't mind scars. They were sexy. And his scar would mean that he was alive, and healed, and still with Jack. Jack concentrated on stopping the trembling of his hands, and then reached for his own med kit and set to work prepping Ianto for transport. Beth snagged Mickey and had him help her assemble a stretcher they could use to get Ianto out to the jeep. 

Jack gently shifted Ianto's body onto the stretcher, and Ianto groaned softly. It was the first sound he had made since they showed up, and Jack breathed a shaky sigh of relief. He looked up at Nehemiah's mother, and said in English, "Thank you. I can't–," he stopped, and started again. "If there is anything we could do for you–"

"You have already done it, Dr. Harkness," she said in her carefully chosen English words. "Nehemiah wanted to be the one to repay your kindness. He does not understand what happened here."

Jack looked back at her, confused.

"Mr. Smith will explain. Take care of the other one," she continued, nodding down at Ianto. "Goodbye, Dr. Harkness."

Nehemiah tugged on his arm, and whispered in his ear when he knelt down. "Samaritan."

"Thank you, Nehemiah," Jack returned gravely. He stood up and gripped the stretcher by Ianto's head, and Mickey grabbed the handles by his feet. Beth walked in front, helping Jack walk backwards.

It was the longest walk of Jack's life. Ianto moaned whenever they accidentally jostled him, which was much more often than Jack would have liked due to the narrow roads. Mickey was tense, and Jack had a feeling they weren't out of the woods just yet. He didn't know what Nehemiah's mother had told Mickey, but the other man looked upset and angry, and his eyes did not stop scanning the crowds, which seemed to contain a lot more men then when they had arrived.

Finally they approached the end of the shantytown, and Jack could see the jeep pulling up to the corner.

"There's Alex," Beth said, sounding relieved. She darted forward to help him adjust the back seats.

A man stepped out of the crowd and planted himself in front of her. "You should not be helping that kind," he said in heavily accented English.

Beth frowned at him. "Stand aside," she commanded. "Please." He was at least double her weight and towered over her.

He shook his head. "They are not welcome here. You should come with us."

He reached out to grab her arm.

Beth _was_ a tiny woman, but she had just lost her husband and come from seeing her colleague in a very similar situation. Now this man was trying to prevent her from helping him, as she had been unable to do for her husband. Alex had started forward to go to her aid, but he only managed two steps before a loud crack sounded, and the large man doubled over, clutching his arm. Beth had snapped it in one blow.

_So much for ‘first, do no harm_ ,' Jack thought grimly.  
The crowd surged forward, but Jack and Mickey had been expecting it. Jack braced himself to take more of Ianto's weight, and Mickey drew one of the guns he had brought.

"Stay back!" he yelled at the crowd. They hesitated, allowing Alex to rush forward and take Mickey's place at the stretcher. Mickey pulled another gun and waved them both around threateningly as Jack, Beth and Alex secured Ianto into the jeep. Beth hopped into the front passenger seat, Alex got behind the wheel and Jack slid into the backseat with Ianto. Mickey checked that they were all secure, waved his guns some more, then hopped onto the bumper, holding onto the jeep one-handed.

"Move, Alex!" he snarled.

Alex took off as quickly as he dared, and soon the noise from the crowd dissipated. A heavy silence descended on the jeep, broken only by Ianto's occasional moan.

"Well," Beth said finally. "I guess I fail at preventing an international incident."

Alex snorted, Beth managed a smile, and suddenly Jack could not contain his hysterical laughter.

His laughter died down as they approached the clinic. He had a sneaking suspicion that Mickey knew more about why Ianto was attacked, and the actions of the crowd only reinforced it. As soon as he had seen to Ianto, he was going to get Mickey alone and grill him for as long as it took.

It wound up being several hours later before Jack had a moment to rest, and Mickey was back at his usual place in the guardroom. Harriet had contacted the police, and additional security was patrolling outside the walls of the compound. They did not seem to set Mickey's mind at ease, however, and Jack braced himself to find out why. He left Beth monitoring Ianto, who had yet to fully wake up, and, bringing some leftovers from the kitchen with him, he knocked on the guardroom door.

Mickey opened the door, and the way he couldn't meet Jack's eyes told him he was right.

"I brought you some food," he said, holding out his peace offering.

"Thanks."

Jack decided there was no point beating around the bush, and just dived right in. "So those police outside? They here to protect us? Or to arrest us?"

Mickey looked up at that, and grimacing, shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno."

Jack sighed, and looked out the window. "Maybe I should go out there and ask them."

"Don't you dare, Jack Harkness!" Harriet's voice managed to sound indignant even over the tinny intercom system.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it was rude to eavesdrop on someone else's conversation, Harriet?" Jack snapped back.

"Not when you're being a prat! Jack, I have a plan, wait there."

The intercom squeaked loudly. Jack glared at Mickey. He managed to look rather abashed. "Harriet's a bit bossy," he muttered.

Harriet herself didn't knock at the door, but swept right into the little guardroom, Andy at her heels. "Okay, Jack, you stay here and keep an eye on Ianto; I'm going to see a few men on the city council and–"

"Saint Harriet to the rescue?" he interrupted snidely. Mickey and Andy kept quiet, eyes going back and forth between the two of them like they were watching a tennis match.

"Don't be ridiculous. I know the language, I know the culture, I know these men, I can fix this."

"I don't need you to solve my problems for me, Harriet!"

"Stop being so obtuse; this isn't just about you!"

"Worried about your little orphanage?"

"Well, yes, quite frankly, but I was referring to Ianto."

"I can take care of Ianto!" A vein in Jack's forehead began to throb, and he clenched his fists in frustration.

"No Jack, you can't."

"But I WANT to!" he roared.

Harriet didn't say anything back. Finally she sighed, and laid a hesitant hand on his forearm. "Jack. Will you let me try?"

Jack looked at her a long moment. Harriet was stubborn and clever and loyal, and she was right. She was the one best equipped to deal with this situation. He gritted his teeth. "Go on."

She gave him a swift smile and a peck on the cheek. "Keep faith. I'll be back."

She nodded in farewell to Mickey and Andy and walked out to the gate and then the street.

Andy frowned after her in consternation, then shook his head and turned to Jack. "I called Gwen, filled her in on things. I'll call her again after Ianto wakes up. She'll probably want to fly here straight away."

Jack was absurdly grateful that he hadn't had to tell Gwen that he had got her baby brother beaten to within an inch of his life. "Thank you, Andy."

Andy took a deep breath. "And I wanted to apologize. I know – I know it was my fault, with those stupid fresh herbs, and God, Jack, I'm so sorry–"

"Andy." Jack cut him off. "It was not your fault."

"But–"

Jack interrupted him again. "They didn't attack Ianto for herbs or even money."

"Then why–"  
"It is illegal to participate in a homosexual activity in Ghana."

Andy looked quite taken aback. He shot Mickey a quick look, as if to check that he had heard that correctly. Mickey nodded, and walked back to his bank of monitors, focused on the police patrolling the street outside.

"Well. Well. How do they even know?"

Mickey answered from his perch by the monitors. "Apparently some of our patients spread tales. And then this afternoon, Ianto said goodbye in a ‘suspicious manner.' An old man was watching, and he confirmed the rumors to his son, who spread the news in the marketplace."

"Nehemiah's mother told you all that, did she?" Jack asked him.

"Yup. She doesn't know how he got from the marketplace we use to the shantytown on the other side of Accra, but she saw him lying in a ditch and pulled him into her shack. Her kids remembered coming here, so she sent Nehemiah to get us. The two of you look enough alike, so Nehemiah called you brothers."

"And I take it she didn't want her kids to know she was helping a gay man, so she told them the story of the Good Samaritan?"

Mickey gave him a reproachful look. "Jack–"

"Yeah, I know, I should be grateful she helped. I _am_ grateful she helped! I'm just . . . I don't know." Jack pounded the wall in frustration. The three of them stood in silence for a minute.

"So . . . those police outside? Do you really think they might arrest you? Or all of us?" Andy sounded just a trifle nervous.

"Probably not. We're not citizens of Ghana, they only have conjecture, and they'll be worried about retaliation for the attack on Ianto." Jack answered finally. "I'm more worried about the fate of the clinic and orphanage."

"Jack?" Beth's voice called over the intercom. "Ianto's stirring."

Jack left the other two keeping vigil in the guardroom and ran to his and Ianto's room.

Ianto looked like crap, but when Jack burst into the room, he managed a tremulous smile. Beth discreetly walked out of the room, leaving them alone.

Jack wanted to say that everything would be fine, that he was sorry, that he loved him. He crawled onto the bed next to Ianto, careful not to touch him. Ianto gazed at him blearily through drugged out eyes.

"Jack . . ." Ianto breathed out. "Stay safe . . ."

"Don't worry, Ianto. We're okay. You need to rest."

Ianto looked up at him, trying to stay awake. "Will you . . ."

"I'll be here when you wake up." Jack leaned over and kissed his nose. "I'll always be here."

Ianto smiled, and fell back into unconsciousness. Jack lay there, watching him, trying to pinpoint the moment when his life had changed. Was it when he first saw Ianto, bruised and bloodied, lying in the shack? Or earlier that week, when he had inadvertently referred to Ianto as his family, if only in his own head? Or earlier yet, when Ianto had kissed him as the sun set on Cardiff Bay and he had agreed to come to this place with him? Whenever it was, his life was not the same. He worked with six other people, all of whom he found to be attractive, yet he had only slept with Ianto. He had only _wanted_ to sleep with Ianto. Even outside the realm of the sexual, Ianto was who he wanted to spend time with, who he wanted to tell his stories to, who made him laugh. He had told Ianto he was wildly in love with him, and it was true. Instead of totally freaking him out, the knowledge made him calmer. Ianto was here, safe now, and going to recover. Whatever the results of Harriet's talks turned out to be, he had Ianto. He could cope with the rest.

He lay there watching Ianto sleep for a long time before there was a soft knock at the door, and a head of dirty blonde curls poked itself inside the room. _Harriet._

Jack sat up, and glanced down at Ianto to make sure he was still resting peacefully. Assured, he moved over to the door to confer with Harriet.

"Before you begin, I need to say thank you for your efforts, and I'm sorry I was a little short before." Jack rolled his shoulders, working out the kinks. Harriet waited until he was finished. Jack couldn't tell from her expression how her meetings had gone.

"I met with members of the city council first. They are not planning to press charges against Ianto's attackers, and if you accept this, they will also not press charges against Ianto, yourself, or anyone else related to the Tyler Foundation in Ghana. They will not revoke the licenses for either the clinic or the orphanage, or insist on Ianto's resignation. In return, they ask that the Tyler Foundation commits to remaining active in Ghana for the next ten years and all staff members refrain from engaging in homosexual activities in public."

Harriet paused for breath before continuing. "I think that's the best we could expect from them, really. I would have liked to have seen Ianto's attackers face legal justice, but it would be hard to determine who they were. We have no conclusive proof that the man Beth struck was one of them, and she already told me that Ianto's wounds looked like he was attacked from behind. He may not be able to identify them, either."

Jack nodded. "You did a good job. I'll talk it over with Ianto, see what he wants to do."

"Thanks," she whispered. She cleared her throat.

"I also spoke with the Christian Churches' Coalition. As you know, their support is critical to keeping the clinic open, and getting the orphanage up and rolling. They will continue to support the orphanage, though perhaps not as vociferously. The orphanage will open as expected in two weeks' time."

"Well, that's better than expected!" Jack exclaimed. "Why are you upset?"

Harriet looked down at her hands. "I wanted them to admit that the men were wrong to attack Ianto," she answered in a small voice.

"No such luck, huh?"

She shook her head.

"Harriet, most _liberal_ churches barely tolerate gays and bisexuals. You did a great job."

"Thanks, but –"

"Your Jesus preached tolerance?"

Harriet dragged a weary hand across her forehead. "Jesus preaches love, Jack. Tolerance is a crumb from the table. You deserve better," she sighed heavily. "But sometimes you have to make a meal from the crumbs."

She looked him in the eye. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

Jack pulled her into a hug. Harriet was bossy, and stubborn, and just this side of self-righteous, but she was his. Jack couldn't give a rat's ass what the Christian Churches' Coalition thought of him; he'd take Harriet's idea of faith over theirs any day of the week. All in all, the repercussions could have been so much worse. He still had to make a report on the situation to Dr. Toshiko Sato, the Director of Tyler Foundation operations in Africa, but he knew he could count on her support. After all, she wasn't a hypocrite.

Andy came up to sit with Ianto later that night while Jack showered and prepared something for Ianto to eat. Jack was not looking forward to hearing Ianto's account of his attack, but knew that it would probably help Ianto to go over the details out loud.

As it turned out, Ianto didn't really know the details. Beth's assessment was correct: he had been attacked from behind. He never even saw his attackers. On the second day, Jack explained to him as gently as he could what they had figured out about the attack, what Nehemiah and his mother had done for them, and the concessions Harriet had wrangled.

Ianto was silent in response, at first. Then he asked if Nehemiah's mother was in need of a job; Harriet was going to need help with the orphanage, after all. Jack replied that it sounded like a good idea to him; he'd pass it along. Ianto was quiet for a long moment after that. Finally Jack had to ask.

"What do you want to do?"

"How do you mean?"

"Do you want to accept their restrictions? Do you want to fight back? Do you want to leave?"

Ianto sighed. "I don't want to leave."

"That's good. Neither do I."

"But I feel . . . Jack, I don't know who did this."

"Yes. But the fact that it happened at all. Does that make you change your mind about anything?"

"I have no regrets."

Jack swallowed hard. "I'm glad. So do you want to fight, then? Against the council, that church club, Big Brother, if you will?"

Ianto chewed his lower lip. "Jack, I know it could look like we're settling if we take their offer, but . . . they didn't condemn us. They could have. But they didn't. And that has to count for something. It doesn't look like a big step, but it's in the right direction."

Jack nodded slowly. "Don't you want more?"

"Of course I do! But we're not going to get it tomorrow. We have to take the long view here, Jack."

Jack was not good at taking the long view. "Okay. We'll take the long view as regards the system. That doesn't change the fact that a group of strangers beat you in the street and people just let it happen."

"Not everyone. I'm alive because someone stopped it, and someone protected me. Not everyone was out to get us. I'm not a particularly optimistic person, but that gives me a little hope, at least."

Jack leaned over and kissed him gently. "It gives me hope, too." He stood up. "You get some rest now. Your sister's going to be here soon."

Ianto smiled, and sank further into the pillows. "That's good." He caught at Jack's hands as they pulled a sheet up over him. "I love you, Jack."

"I love you too, Ianto."

Jack closed the door softly behind him when he left, and whistled to himself as he strode down the hall. Ianto was going to be okay. Gwen would be here soon, and she would help Ianto's recovery. His staff was starting to gel as a unit. The orphanage would open in two weeks' time, right on schedule. He had a man who loved him, whom he loved in return, and neither of them were going to get run out of town on a rail.

Jack walked out into the courtyard. It was dusk. He could smell Alex and Beth's dinner simmering in the kitchen, and beyond that, the smell of Accra. He climbed the fire escape and stood on top of the clinic, surveying the city. Somewhere out there resided a group of people who thought they could get away with attacking his Ianto. They were going to find out that they were wrong. Until then, Jack was going to concentrate on helping Ianto heal. The wind shifted suddenly, and Jack's head was filled with the scent of salt air off the Bay. He was reminded of a different evening, by a different Bay. Ianto had thrown his lot in with him there. In spite of everything, Jack wouldn't change that for the world.

Chapter Three:  
INTERLUDE [GHANA TO INDIA]

Ianto's left leg hurt abominably. Ever since the Incident a year ago, it took to twinging whenever he was still for too long. It twinged whenever it felt like it, actually, but Ianto felt the need to exert some control over the situation and declared that it twinged when he was still. He shifted minutely in his seat. Harriet shot him a mildly concerned look, and he shook his head slightly. She was engrossed in the presentation going on in front of them. He didn't want to break her concentration. She smiled and focused back on the speaker.

"In conclusion, the government of Ghana has found that the past year's activities of the Tyler Foundation, as detailed in their Annual Report, have far exceeded our expectations. We intend to keep supporting the Clinic and Orphanage here in Accra, and look forward to many more years of harmonious collaboration."

The government official sat down to a smattering of applause. Next to him, Harriet was glowing. There were more words of congratulation, verbal pats on the back and a handful of handshakes and a hug or three. Ianto bore it all with good grace.

It was Jack's job to be here, but Jack had studiously ignored anyone involved with either Church or State in Ghana for the last year, and was not about to break his streak now. Ianto knew that he felt like a hypocrite for relying on the support of people and organizations he felt had dismally failed him. Ianto felt like a hypocrite himself sometimes around them, but Harriet had just shaken her head and said that their hypocrisy was one hundred times worse than his, and besides, they literally could not function without them so "we may as well make them celebrate us with bells and whistles and a ticker-tape parade." Harriet was the only person he knew who would use the expression "ticker-tape parade," but he appreciated the sentiment. Still, he couldn't help glancing longingly out the window. There was a breeze off the water and for once, it would be pleasant to be outside. Jack was outside, probably, as it was his turn to go to the market, a task he had done more and more frequently over the past year. Ianto daydreamed he was with Jack as an official pulled him and Harriet into a photo op full of fake smiles and hunched shoulders.

***

Jack sat back on his heels, heedless of the dust, and surveyed the corpse in front of him. The sightless eyes of the old man were very familiar. Just a year ago, he had tracked this man down by himself. It had been so easy. Even now, Jack wasn't sure what he had planned to do once he had him. Use him as a link to his son, and through his son, find the men who had beaten Ianto and left him for dead. That part was a given. Jack wasn't sure how to punish the old man for his role in all of this. Jack had almost been surprised when, after following him from the market to his shack about three days after the Attack, his fist had closed around the scrawny little neck and squeezed. The old man had kicked uselessly at the hard-packed earth of his home and made little wheezing noises. Jack had released him when his lips had started to turn blue, and then had proceeded to smash every piece of rough-hewn furniture in the shack. They were both panting when he was done.

"Why?" Jack had asked finally in his passable Akan. "He's my … You don't have the right … not him..."

The old man had sneered at him and spit in his face. "You're wrong. Get out of my house."

Jack had stood there, rooted to the spot, spittle dripping down his cheek. Finally he had lifted a hand, flicked off the spittle, and punched the old man squarely in the jaw. He knew what the sound he made meant: the old man had now lost all his remaining teeth. Jack had turned and walked out of the shack. He had started to run and hadn't stopped until he got to the harbor. The sight of the water soothed him like nothing else could. It called to mind Ianto's blue eyes, and Ianto's promise to go with him.

Jack was far from the water now, in both time and space. He hadn't seen the old man in months. The continued passage of time had left its mark on them both, though it had failed in any attempts to obliterate Jack.

"Too bad for you," Jack murmured to the corpse, passing his palm over the weathered face and closing the eyes. He straightened to his feet and nodded at the young policeman who'd found the corpse. "Natural causes," he said. It was even true.

Jack brushed his hands off on his khaki trousers. The body would be claimed by the old man's family. _But not his son. Good riddance to them both._

He glanced unseeing around at the market. He had a list in one of his pockets, but he no longer wanted to be around so many people. Maybe Mickey would go in his place. He directed his steps back to the clinic. Ianto and Harriet would be back soon, and his fingers itched to touch Ianto and reassure himself that he was alright.

Ianto and Harriet got back about an hour after he did, and thankfully Harriet was jabbering away, too excited about their meeting to make any remarks about the strangeness of Jack sitting in the guardroom in Mickey's place. Ianto shot him a questioning look, but Jack let Harriet keep the conversation ball rolling.

Jack was unusually quiet during dinner. The clinic and orphanage staff had expanded in the past year to include Nehemiah's mother, Grace. Andy had just regaled them all with story about his youngest patient and the long search to find the perfect pair of glasses when Harriet asked Grace about her family.

"Nehemiah has been following his uncle around. ‘Little Shadow,' we call him."

Jack smiled at the mental picture. "What does your brother do, Grace?" he asked, reaching for the bowl of stew.

"My brother is a policeman, Dr. Harkness," she replied. Her eyes were sharp on his face. "He has been looking into the deaths of gang members. Vicious men, robbers and bullies. Someone _more_ vicious has killed several this past year."

Jack willed himself to continue scooping his stew calmly. "Is that so?" There was just the slightest tremor in his voice. Ianto would be the only one who could pick up on it and, sure enough, Jack could feel Ianto's eyes on him.

"It is so, yes, Dr. Harkness." She cleared her throat. "My brother says they have no leads. He says this murderer is doing God's own work, and he will not try to stop him. _I_ say that murder is murder. ‘Vengeance is mine,' sayeth the Lord."

Jack's fingers tightened on the spoon and his blood began a slow boil. He didn't trust himself to speak.

"Hear, hear," Harriet chimed in. She, Andy and Alex were not following the undercurrent of the conversation, but next to her, Beth shot Jack a sympathetic look and Mickey frowned into his stew bowl. Jack couldn't raise his head to gauge Ianto's reaction. He dared not.

"Just today, the father of one of these gangsters died in the street," Grace continued.

"That was natural causes," Jack answered quickly. Everyone was looking at him now. "I was in the marketplace; I saw him," he muttered.

"Natural causes is God's vengeance," Grace declared.

Ianto abruptly pushed his chair back from the table. "Pardon me. I need to go check on … something."

Jack risked a glance up at him and felt his previously boiling blood run cold at the look in Ianto's eyes. His mouth went dry and all appetite left him as Ianto turned awkwardly on his heel and limped out of the kitchen. Beth caught his eye and gestured at him to follow Ianto. He swallowed.

"Fascinating as this discussion is, Grace, I need to go help Ianto with the something. Everyone." He inclined his head to the table and hurried away. The sound of Grace and Harriet agreeing with each other followed him out into the hallway. He caught up with Ianto outside the door to their room.

"Ianto, I –" he started.

"I'm just going to change my uniform and switch with Beth for the nightshift." Ianto shuffled into the room and over to the wardrobe. Jack followed him inside, closing the door behind them.

"I don't want to fight about this, either," Jack tried to keep his voice low.

"About what, Jack?" Ianto's voice had a slightly hysterical edge to it, and Jack glanced nervously at the door. "About what you _may_ have done to every man who was in that crowd? Or were you never going to tell me? How did you even know who they were? I was there, and I didn't even know who they were!"

"I found them, okay?" Jack was starting to fray. He had tried so hard to prevent Ianto from ever knowing what he'd done, and then Grace threw it in everyone's faces.

"You found them? That's it?" Ianto shut the wardrobe door as if forgetting why he'd opened it, padded once around the tiny room, and then collapsed into one of the folding chairs, head in his hands.

Jack took a deep breath, and knelt down at Ianto's feet. "Ianto, I'm sorry, but I couldn't let them get away with hurting you. I went out and found them."

Ianto interrupted him. "I found them, too," he whispered.

Jack's hand tightened on Ianto's good knee. "What?"

Ianto raised his head from his hands. "I found them," he repeated, louder now. "Did you think _I'd_ let them get away with it?"

Jack shook his head, watching Ianto's face. "I knew the women who manned the stalls there. Two or three of them were willing to tell me what they'd seen, for a price. Or to ease their consciences, I don't know which and I wasn't picky about finding out why." Ianto paused, and took a breath, looking him in the eye. Jack could see the pigeons coming home to roost, and he swallowed, preparing himself. "You must have found them first, Jack. Do you recall two brothers who had a little fishing boat? They got tangled in their own nets during a storm and drowned. It looked very natural."

"Ianto…" Jack started. "I…" Ianto said nothing in response, and Jack frowned, trying to gather his equilibrium. "It _was_ natural! With maybe a little impetus. But what were you planning to do to them, then?"

Jack stood and dragged another folding chair over. He was ceding too much ground by being on the floor.

"I didn't have a plan," Ianto said quietly.

Jack snorted. " _You_ didn't have a plan? Seriously, you?"

"No!" Ianto raised his own voice in response. "Sometimes I have no clue what I'm doing! Why is that hard to believe? I just… I just … I wanted to know who they were. I wanted to stop them." His voice died out on the last line.

Jack sighed and sat back in his chair. "Well, I stopped them."

Ianto looked down at his hands. "How many?"

Jack closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Six. So many more watched it happen. But six did it."

Ianto's shoulders shook as tears fell thickly down his face. Jack was on his feet in an instant, knocking over his folding chair and kneeling again at Ianto's feet. He held his breath as Ianto reached out and took his face in his hands. "Jack," he said hoarsely, "sometimes you scare me, love."

"I didn't – I didn't – I just – the storm came out of nowhere –" He was babbling, he knew, but he had to explain. He couldn't bear for Ianto to look at him like that. "I didn't _touch_ any of them! Grace has it wrong; I'm not a vicious killer, you have to believe me! I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he kept babbling incoherently, and Ianto kissed his forehead, stroked his cheeks, ran his fingers through his hair. Jack shifted on his knees, still murmuring apologies, and pulled Ianto closer. His hands circled Ianto's waist, moving up his back, fingers digging into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. He showered Ianto's neck and face with kisses, the salt of tears on his tongue. Finally Ianto pulled away and took Jack's chin in his hand. "I love you. You know that, right?" 

Jack nodded, and Ianto sighed. "But I can't … look, I need you to tell me now, straight out, what happened with the other four."

Jack swallowed. "I … I just added fuel to the fire. They killed each other. They were looking to kill! I didn't touch them."

Ianto's hand tightened around his neck. "And?"

Jack closed his eyes. "I checked to make sure they were dead."

Ianto nodded slowly. Jack waited for him to ask if he'd watched the last one bleed out, if he had forsaken his oaths as a doctor, but no more questions were forthcoming. "I want a shower and bed," Ianto said instead.

Jack stood up again and offered his hand. Ianto took it, and stretched, his back creaking as he stood up. He didn't let go of Jack's hand as he walked into the bathroom, and for the first time that evening, Jack felt like they would survive this. _Thank God._

Jack climbed into the shower with him, sluicing hot water over Ianto's scars and gently wiping them clean. Jack didn't trust himself to speak, and had to make each touch do the talking, telling Ianto that he would always protect him, always love him. Ianto's eyes were closed in the stream of hot water, but Jack could tell it wasn't just the shower trailing down his cheeks. When Jack shut off the water, Ianto wordlessly climbed out, toweled off, and reached for pajama bottoms. Jack stayed in the shower, his relief dripping away like the droplets swirling the drain.

But when he stepped out into their room, the sheets were turned back on his side of the bed, too. He scrambled under the covers and laid a tentative hand on Ianto's arm. He felt rather than heard Ianto sigh.

"I can't talk anymore about it tonight, Jack."

Jack swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Yeah. Sure, I understand." He laid on his side, staring at the pattern of scars on Ianto's back. A thrill suffused his body when Ianto rolled over to face him and slide his hands around him as usual, resting on the small of his back. It was not something he admitted to often, but he loved falling asleep in the protective cocoon of Ianto's arms, the safest place in the world. He leaned in closer to Ianto and whispered "I love you" in his ear. He brought his own arms around Ianto's upper back. He hadn't lost him. And surely they'd get through it now. He fell into an uneasy sleep, his head pillowed on Ianto's chest.

***

Ianto woke before Jack the next morning, and lay quietly in bed, watching the sunlight filter through the curtains and crawl across the bed. Jack never quite managed to look innocent in sleep, but he could pull off peaceful well enough. The sunlight bronzed his bare shoulders, and Ianto bent his neck to press his lips against the warm flesh. Jack smiled in his sleep, and as it did each time that happened, Ianto marveled to himself that _he_ was the cause of such a reaction. If he was waxing romantic, he'd say that Jack tore through the world with the force of a hurricane, and Ianto himself was the port in that storm.

He could wish it wasn't true. Six men. Six men Jack had, well, not killed, but he'd had a hand in their deaths. Ianto clung desperately to the distinction. There _was_ a distinction, he thought, but Jack had decided they should die for what they'd done, and die they did. For the thousandth time since the attack, Ianto wondered what he would have done had he found any of his attackers alive. He rubbed his thumb along Jack's spine. He might have done precisely what Jack did. He'd fought before to protect Jack. Was this so very much different? When Jack was so close to him, their breaths mingling, their hearts beating out a counter-rhythm, he knew with absolute certainty that he would go to any lengths to keep Jack safe. It scared him, the depth of his devotion, but at the same time, as he watched the sun creep up Jack's neck, he knew he didn't want to change.

The sun reached Jack's eyes, and he opened them, squinting around the bed. Ianto had to smile at the blurry look of confusion, and he shifted, moving over Jack to block the sun. "That better, sunshine?" he asked, attempting for a light and airy tone.

Jack look startled, before breaking into a wide smile. He reached up and kissed Ianto's lips. "Mmmm, morning breath!" Jack smacked his lips in mock admiration.

"You have a very high opinion of yourself if you think you're exempt," Ianto grumbled, slipping into their easy banter.

Jack huffed a laugh. Ianto watched the laugh lines around his eyes. Jack's hand trailed up his arm, across his shoulder, cupped his chin. Ianto wanted to tell him not to worry, but the words died on his lips. He closed his eyes and kissed the palm of Jack's hand.

"Ianto?" Jack asked.

"We're okay," he answered the unspoken question. With enough time, it could even be true. He opened his eyes and looked back down at Jack. Jack's usual battlements of bravado and good cheer were swamped with anxiety, and Ianto's heart ached to see it. He stretched out fully on Jack's body and buried his face in Jack's neck. "I don't know how, but we'll be okay," he murmured. If it were up to him, they'd stay in bed all day, and not ever face the ghosts of the six men, or the moral dilemma, or the stares of their colleagues, accusing or sympathetic or both. But the clinic was right outside their door, and duty called.

Everyone walked on eggshells over the next week. Harriet, Andy and Alex had cottoned on to the general meaning of Grace's announcements, and were torn on how to proceed. Well, Alex shrugged his shoulders and carried on, but Andy was extremely nervous. He had finally finagled a real date with Harriet, and didn't want to put her off by looking to agree with what Jack had done, but at the same time, Ianto was his best friend and he felt he should support him. Harriet tried to gently figure out Ianto's opinion on the matter, but he held his own counsel.

Ianto wasn't completely sure how he felt. He could feel the deaths of his attackers as a stain on his own soul. He watched Jack carefully to see if he was as affected, but after their initial blow-up, Jack seemed determined to act like nothing had happened. Each time Ianto tried to bring up the topic, Jack changed the subject with soft kisses and pleading eyes. Ianto began to have nightmares, like he'd had after the attack, except this time they were of Jack, chained to a wheel in the underworld, walking continual circles as he pushed the cog to open the gates of Hell. He woke up crying the first time he had it, and embarrassed himself by sniveling into Jack's shoulder while Jack patted his back.

Jack's only change was in bed, where he was even more tender than usual. Ianto found himself growing more and more aggressive in response. When he fucked Jack now, the bed shook off its cinder blocks. They'd always been loud in bed, but now the grunts and moans and squeaky mattress were loud enough to wake the dead. He pounded into Jack, as deep and as fast as he could go, and Jack moaned into the mattress, taking him in and coming hard. Ianto worried about hurting him, but Jack held him fast, after Ianto came and pulled out, panting uncontrollably, sometimes crying.

They needed a change, Ianto thought. He knew he loved Jack. But they needed to leave Ghana, its memories and ghosts, before the past turned into something bitter in his heart and he could no longer look Jack in the eye. He never wanted to change into a shell of his former self, unable to hold Jack's gaze. Jack was on his knees now, lips around the head of Ianto's cock, tongue flicking out to lap down its length. Ianto bucked forward slightly, and Jack sucked more of him into his mouth towards his throat. He kept his eyes on Ianto's, and Ianto felt his heart stutter. That look hadn't changed. Jack's hands tightened on his arse, and Ianto rocked forward even more, going deep into Jack's throat. "Coming," he moaned, and Jack nodded slightly, swallowing. Ianto came with a cry, his fingers tightening in Jack's hair as Jack sucked his cum down then lapped his cock clean from head to base.

"Jack," Ianto said when he got his breath back. "We have to leave Ghana. I can't stay here."

Jack was silent, still on his knees. He slid his hands down from Ianto's arse to rest lightly over Ianto's bad leg, the lower part of the left leg that still ached. "You mean ‘us,' right?" he asked softly.

"Yes. If you, if you … I mean together. We have to leave … do you agree?" he held his breath. He'd promised to come here with Jack. What if Jack viewed it as some form of betrayal that he wanted to leave now?

Jack rose to his feet and kissed him. "You're right. You're right. Come on, let's go to bed. We'll think of something in the morning."

For the first time that week, Ianto did not have a nightmare.

***

Jack was relieved. They should have left Ghana months ago, maybe even a year ago, but they were both too stubborn to do it. Now that the decision had been made, though, he felt a huge weight lift from his chest. He pulled Harriet aside the next morning to break the news to her. She pulled his head down and kissed his forehead. "I'll pray for you," she said breathlessly. "Jack, you know I don't … I mean it's not my place either way, but I don't … what I mean is, I don't think you're a vicious killer. I hope you find peace."

"Thanks, Harriet. I appreciate your support." He broke the solemn mood with a sudden grin. "This will mean a lot more work for you, too, you know," he warned her, and tugged one of her curls.

"Well, maybe Andy will step up," she said, eyes twinkling.

He had to laugh at that. "Maybe he will."

Alex had nodded like he'd been expecting it, Beth had told him they were doing the right thing, and Mickey had clapped him on the shoulder in a rare hug. Grace had given him a self-satisfied nod. Jack wouldn't miss her. She'd saved Ianto's life. It didn't give her a right to pass judgment, in his opinion. Still, he would be forever grateful for her quick actions in the market a year ago.

He left Ianto to tell Andy the news. Andy toasted to their safe travels at lunch, which only Jack and Mickey had the time to attend, but Jack appreciated it all the same.

He got on the phone to call Dr. Toshiko Sato later that afternoon. Tosh had just transferred to Mumbai, India, to run the Tyler Foundation clinics in Asia. She'd know if a branch could use a new doctor and nurse matched set.

"Jack! I was just about to call you!" Tosh's voice echoed a bit over the wire, but he could make out a breathless note of excitement. "We may be opening a new clinic in Kerala, India – outside of Kochin. I'd love it if you could give me your opinion of the facilities."

He blinked down at the phone. It seemed almost too good to be true. Kochin was located on the water, in a very pretty area of India, if he remembered his geography lessons. "Wow, that's serendipitous," he said hesitatingly. "What's the catch?"

"We may not have enough funding to open it," Tosh responded promptly. "But in the meantime, couldn't you do with a little vacation in India?"

Jack laughed. "We could indeed. Okay, when do you want us?"

"I'd like to do the inspection in a week. In the meantime, I'll keep asking around for a transfer for you both, just in case. Is a week too soon?"

Jack shook his head. He could see into the kitchen from where he stood. Ianto was at the counter, hands on hips, surveying the potatoes for that night's meal. "No a week is good. Send me the details; we'll be there."

They hung up soon after, and Jack went into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Ianto. "So … how do you feel about India?"

***

Ianto pursed his lips and shook his head angrily. The duffel bag just wasn't going to zip, and that's all there was to it. He pulled out a few vintage rock t-shirts, Jack's idea of vacation wear. If they stayed in India or not, they were still getting a vacation together. _First vacation as a … couple._ He'd been smiling over that for the past week. Not even a last minute change in plans could knock his mood, especially since the change consisted of his sister Gwen coming for a visit, with her priest boyfriend in tow. He'd join up with Jack in Kochin five days after Jack got there. Hopefully he'd miss all of the work part of the trip and just get to enjoy the vacation.

He pulled all of the t-shirts out of the duffel, rolled them up, and then everything fit. _With Jack's constant suitcase lifestyle, he should be bloody brilliant at packing these things._

"Ianto!" Jack came into their room and shut the door. "How's it – hey, did you get everything to fit?"

"Yes, no thanks to you," Ianto grumped at him. Jack grinned at him.

"I'm blaming it on my post-bon voyage party buzz," he articulated carefully. Ianto raised an eyebrow and nodded to the bottle of Pimms in Jack's hand. 

"Bringing the party with you, I see."

"It's always a party with you."

"Gag me."

"I'll try."

Ianto snorted a laugh despite himself. "Give me that bottle. You need a shower," he said, and slapped Jack's arse.

Jack took a swig from the bottle before handing it over. "You joining me?"

"Maybe," Ianto replied. He knew full well he would. Jack grinned again and sauntered into the bathroom, whistling. Ianto watched him go, admiring the view, and reveling in their renewed easy back-and-forth. Deciding to leave Ghana, putting physical distance between themselves and their memories, was truly the best thing for them.

They'd had a nice evening, in spite of the new tensions among the staff. Jack was a good leader, and he'd personally recruited this staff, except for Andy. He'd be missed, as would Ianto. Ianto knew they would all see each other again someday, but it was the end of a chapter in their lives, and it left him a little melancholy. Jack started the water in the shower, and Ianto kicked off his shoes and socks, hurriedly stripping.

Water dripped through Jack's hair and ran down his body, chasing soap suds from shoulder to ankle. Ianto climbed into the shower behind him. Jack craned his neck back, and Ianto kissed his cheek and chin and the corner of his mouth as he worked two soap-slick fingers into him. Jack opened his eyes in the shower stream, water droplets catching in his eyelashes as he grinned back at Ianto. The sight made Ianto get even harder, and he withdrew his fingers and carefully slid inside him. Ianto leaned forward and placed a kiss between Jack's shoulder blades before thrusting harder into him. They rutted against the shower tiles, warm water sliding over them and providing a tinkling counterpoint to their grunts and moans. Ianto pumped Jack's cock with one hand and clung hard to Jack's hip with his other. "I love you, Jack," he whispered fiercely as he came inside Jack. He caught his breath against Jack's neck as he gradually softened inside him. "Jack?" he murmured. "Do you want – ?" He felt Jack nod under his lips, and he smiled, sliding gradually out before getting on his knees. Jack turned to face him, his cock heavy and leaky and aching to come. Ianto sucked the head gently, and Jack had to reach forward and tangle his fingers in wet hair to stay upright. Ianto smiled around his mouthful, and ran his tongue up and under the foreskin. Jack moaned, and Ianto stared up at him as he leaned forward and took Jack fully into his mouth in one quick motion. Jack let out a startled gasp as Ianto swallowed convulsively, his fingers reaching out to rub a thumb over Jack's balls. Jack came with a shout, and Ianto pulled slightly back, cum dripping down his chin.

Ianto didn't sleep well, anxious as he was about their impending separation. Five days wasn't much, but it was the first time they'd be separated since becoming partners. He spent most of the night propped on an elbow watching Jack sleep. Jack woke early in the morning, and picked up immediately on Ianto's strange mood. They fucked almost entirely without words, Jack thrusting into Ianto at a slow and steady rate. Ianto entwined his fingers around Jack's around his cock. He clamped down all around Jack as he came over their hands. He could feel Jack inside him, filling him up, coming and spilling into him. He brought Jack's hand up to his lips and kissed it.

"I'll miss you," he whispered, hating the pleading note in his voice.

Jack kissed his neck. "I'll see you in five days. I'll meet you at the airport and we'll cause a scandal by making out in front of everyone." Ianto cracked a smile as Jack continued. "And I'll bring you flowers! And go down on you in the cab – don't worry, I'll get one with tinted windows."

"You're incorrigible."

"I'm yours."

Ianto smiled wider. "You're mine."

Five days. It wouldn't be so bad.

Chapter Four:  
INDIA

 **Part I**

The airport was a riot of color; saris and sherwanis and business suits and t-shirts reflecting the entire spectrum of a rainbow. Jack peered through the crowds, searching for a tall redhead. Donna would not be hard to spot, if he could see her through the sheer press of so many people. He would never be able to hear her. He had an ear for languages, and he detected at least four Indian dialects around him. He knew a smattering of Hindi, but it wasn't as widely used in this part of India. He let the noise wash over him; voices, animals, traffic from the street, and concentrated on using his eyes, instead. His could feel his stomach rumble, and he sniffed appreciatively. Cutting through the smell of so many bodies and traffic exhaust was the distinctive scent of coconut and what he guessed was some pachadi.

A pale hand tugged on his elbow and he turned into an embrace from Donna. He laughed as he squeezed her close to him. "Donna Noble! It's been too long since I've seen your enchanting smile!"

She gave him a loud, smacking kiss on his cheek. "Sweet talking will get you everywhere! You have your bags? All set? Brilliant! Onward to lunch."

Jack laughed again and offered his arm. Donna took it, and one of his bags, and steered them towards an exit. Jack admired her blue jewel-toned sari as they made it out onto the street and towards a line of cars with drivers.

"You've gone native, Donna! Looking good!"

She flipped her hair over her shoulder and shrugged slightly. "Tosh likes them. Though I draw the line at head coverings."

Their driver hurried forward to help with the bags and Jack and Donna slid into the back seat. "We'll have to go by the hotel first," Donna told him, "or else Tosh would get jealous that you got me all to yourself."

Jack grinned and settled back into his seat as the driver started the car and they began the slow process of making their way to their hotel. Tosh and Donna were based in Mumbai, and had arrived in Kochi just the day before. Jack regaled Donna with tales from Ghana as he watched the sights go by. Kochi was a port city, and the airport was located a few miles to the north of the city proper. The Arabian Sea sparkled on their right as they headed into Kochi, high rises and slums beginning to block the sight of the sea, and the myriad fishing boats and ferries. The streets began to grow more and more crowded, rickshaws battling taxis, buses, and other vehicles. Jack pointed out a pack of wild dogs, and Donna told him about a spay/neuter clinic the city was trying to get off the ground to curtail the problem; Mumbai was doing the same thing.

They finally pulled up in front of their hotel. Jack admired the architecture as he helped the driver with the bags and Donna handed over the fare. It was a kind of golden color, and the outside looked like colonialism had met traditional Indian architecture and fallen in love. The lobby was all dark wood accents and tiled mosaics and Dr. Toshiko Sato hurrying towards them. Jack enveloped her in a huge bear hug, lifting her off her feet. She laughed in protest, but put up with it. Jack knew he was the only one who could get away with such a public display of affection for her, and he made the most of it, kissing her forehead once he placed her back on her feet.

"Donna mentioned something about lunch," he announced, still gripping her shoulders.

"Across the street. Go put your bags away; then we'll eat." She handed him his room key and gently shooed him down the corridor on the left. All of the rooms looked out into a lovely inner courtyard garden with fountain. Jack eyed a secluded corner as he walked by. There were little table and benches in the courtyard, and he indulged a daydream of sharing breakfast with Ianto there, hidden from view by the greenery. The benches were fairly wide, he could straddle Ianto and spend hours with him making out like teenagers…he bumped smack into another guest and took a step back, dropping his bags to rub his forehead. The other man had a hard head. The other man was…

"Smith? John Smith?" Jack asked, incredulous.

"Ah, yes?" Smith answered, gingerly patting at his face, as if to ascertain nothing was broken. That done, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and smiled uncertainly at Jack.

"I'd recognize you anywhere! I know a couple of your, uh, brothers!" Jack flashed him a full-on grin, and Smith's forehead smoothed.

"Jack Harkness! Of the Ghana clinic, and other varied adventures! Of course!" He seized Jack's hand and pumped it enthusiastically.

"What brings you to Kochi?" Jack asked. "Are any of the others with you?"

"Eh? No, just me. Looking into some opportunities." He finally dropped Jack's hand to wave his own vaguely in the air. Jack got the distinct impression that these ‘opportunities' were a bit of a mystery even to Smith. "John's still in Thailand with that Smith woman – um, different Smith – and John and John are dude-ranching in Wyoming. John's going to join them when his soap opera goes on hiatus. John's teaching chemistry and underwater basket-weaving at uni over in, oh, Oregon? California? Idaho? Whichever of those makes sense. John, John and John have opened a Greek restaurant in Melbourne, and John's starting training to be a paratrooper, and John is, of course, living in Dubai and working with me in my little, ah, business."

Jack took the recital in stride. He'd worked with two John Smiths in the past and found the experiences endlessly fascinating. What luck to meet their youngest brother! "I'd love to hear more. Listen, what are you doing for lunch?"

***

Lunch turned out to be a rather protracted affair. Tosh and Donna were thrilled to meet John Smith, as they had also both worked with one or two of the Smiths in the past. They had just transferred to the Tyler Foundation's office in Mumbai and would be working with John Smith (the tenth of that name) once again. As they all passed around the thoran, pachadi and rice, they also swapped stories. John Smith regaled them with a tale of mistaken identity in the Smith household that left them all in paroxysms of laughter. Tosh told of a memorable emergency surgery she had been roped into assisting, despite her doctorate being a PhD instead of an MD, by the ninth Smith. They'd turned into vets for the day and patched up a pet potbelly pig. "She can't eat bacon anymore now," Donna stage-whispered to Jack. Tosh had to admit it was true.

The talk eventually turned to the reason for Jack, and eventually Ianto, to be in India: Rahul's farm and its potential suitability as a clinic. Tosh felt it was a little far from the city, which led into discussing a possible triage clinic in the city proper, and transportation out to the donated clinic.

"That will run up the tab considerably," Jack said, frowning down at Donna's napkin, where she'd been listing costs.

"Mmm, I have a possible solution," Tosh said, taking a sip of her water and swallowing. "Have any of you heard of Harold Saxon? From what I can tell, he's a rich landowner and businessman in this area. He left a message in Mumbai the day we left – he'd like to arrange a meeting to see about making a sizable donation."

"Oh, really?" Jack asked. "Saxon, you said? I don't think I've ever heard of him." He shrugged. "Though I can't say as I know _any_ rich businessmen … in this area," he amended. He had a few exes that he'd consider rich.

"Saxon, Saxon, Saxon," Smith mused, tapping his chin. "You know, it sounds vaguely familiar. Any relation to that chap what ran for Parliament awhile back?"

"I honestly don't know," Tosh replied, and pulled a scrap of paper from her bag. They all bent their heads to look at it, though Donna had seen it before. _Harold Saxon – multi-million pound donation? – plantation five km west of Rahul's site – meet this week? – 555-12-3456_

"I did a search for him. He owns a factory that manufactures different components of iPods and the like, and has invested in several different technology companies," Tosh said. "What do you think, Jack? I thought the three of us could pay him a visit after we toured Rahul's location, since they're so close." 

"Sounds good to me," Jack replied. "Then I can get all the business out of the way before Ianto gets here. I'm all for mixing business with pleasure, but if I can get it sorted before he shows up, all the better."

***

The jeep died six kilometers after leaving Rahul's farm. Commentary on the way the day was going, Jack thought, but wisely kept the thought to himself. Tosh's mouth was set in a grim line. Jack eyed her as they tramped along the side of the road. Tosh was one of the nicest people he knew, but she did not suffer fools gladly. And they had dealt with their fair share of fools thus far that day.

It started early in the morning, with a mix-up on the car reservation. Donna had requested a jeep after perusing the map of the area around Rahul's place, and also a driver, as the map was none-too-detailed. Unfortunately, their driver had left on another mission before they got there and none of the air-conditioned jeeps were available. So Donna had driven and Tosh had navigated. Tosh had also got them spectacularly lost. Upon finding the potential site, one hour late, they had all three unanimously agreed that it was completely unsuitable for a clinic.

Jack was already daydreaming of the rest of his India trip turning completely into a romantic vacation. Half of his mind was filled with the image of Ianto in a red sherwani. Dream Ianto broke off pieces of naan, dipped them into palek, and placed them delicately on his tongue. Then he fed pieces to Dream Jack. As far as daydreams went, it was rather tame. Jack mentally took out the food and added his fingers unbuttoning the sherwani and his tongue running over each inch of Ianto's exposed skin. He tried mightily to concentrate the other half of his mind on the navigation duties he'd taken from Tosh, and noted right away that Saxon's place was actually ten kilometers away, not five. And then they hit a rock and got a flat and Jack had to put his daydream on hold.

There were, of course, no spare tires.

Tosh grabbed her pack and immediately set off for Saxon's place. Jack exchanged glances with Donna, before they both sighed, grabbed extra water, and hurried to catch up. The road got narrower and narrower as they continued, before suddenly the trees on the left side were cut back to reveal a spectacular view of the sea, several kilometers in the distance. Jack squinted into the setting sun. He could just make out sails on the horizon, the ship outlined in a hazy red nimbus by the sinking fireball. The waves reflected back thousands of tiny points of light, and he swayed for a moment as his body instinctively remembered the feel of a ship beneath his feet, even though it had been almost twenty years. When Ianto arrived, he was definitely going to have to take him out on the ocean. Just the two of them on that great expanse of blue.

"Oi! Jack!" Donna poked him in the side. "Quit dragging your feet or the Ice Queen will leave us in her dust! Besides, the sooner we get there, the sooner Saxon can feed us."

Jack quickened his pace and slung a companionable arm over Donna's shoulders. "Let it not be said that Jack Harkness stood between you and Indian spices."

Donna snorted and slipped a hand around his waist. "Didn't think I'd have to convince _you_. I think Tosh will grind her teeth to nubs before we get there," she continued, not bothering to lower her voice.

Tosh didn't reply, but Jack could see her jaw working, grinding. He hurried to change the subject. As much as he liked to banter with Donna, he preferred it when Tosh's ire was not directed at him.

"The way this day is going, I bet Saxon lives in a hut by the water and dinner will consist of rice and beans," Jack said. "I mean, how many multi-millionaires call the Foundation up out of the blue and offer this much money?"

Tosh frowned. "We're getting to be well-known now, Jack. And besides, we were already over here for Rahul's clinic; what's the harm in a visit? The worst he could do is not give us any money, which is just maintaining the status quo."

Jack opened his mouth to reply, and felt his jaw drop open. On either side of him, Tosh and Donna came to a complete stop. They had reached the top of a rise and spread out in front of them was the plantation of one Mr. Harold Saxon, Esquire. It took up the entire valley, acres and acres of – 

"Poppies! I haven't gone mad, have I?" Donna exclaimed.

Tosh stared, dumbfounded. "How on Earth . . . ?"

"He could have a perfectly reasonable explanation. We need the poppies for morphine – maybe he's a supplier for a justifiable medical manufacturer," Jack said. Tosh rounded on him.

"I looked into him myself last night, Jack. He has nothing to do with medicine, and his property here is listed as a nature reserve, not for agriculture."

Jack frowned. "It's possible he's lax on his permits?"

"Which does not bode well for working with him," Tosh replied. "Okay," she continued, taking a breath. "Here's what we'll do. We'll act like everything is on the up-and-up, and – no offense to you two – but I think I should be the one to subtly bring up in conversation the, ah, purpose of the poppies."

Jack glanced at Donna over Tosh's head. Tosh's frostiness was melting with the introduction of a problem she could potentially solve, and he was fine with letting her run with it. Donna nodded at him wordlessly.

"Sounds good, Tosh. We'll back you up," he said. They started down the other side of the rise.

It was a ten minute walk through the poppy fields to get to the buildings that made up Saxon's compound. Jack kept thinking he saw people watching them, but whenever he tried to focus on them, they disappeared. They passed two structures that looked like barracks, a large garage with multiple doors and a small building that could conceivably be an office, before coming to an enormous mansion, built in the Tudor style. Two men in uniform walked out of the mansion and approached them.

"Master Saxon is expecting you," the shorter one said, and held out his arm, indicating that they should follow them up the steps into the mansion. Jack raised his eyebrows at the title, but Tosh took a breath and fell in step just behind their escorts.

"Master?" he whispered to Donna.

"Quiet you, or you'll be calling him ‘Lord and Master,'" she whispered back. Jack grinned tightly and took in their surroundings through hooded eyes. The mansion was populated by servants in black dresses and white aprons, or the black uniforms their two male guards wore. Every surface gleamed and spoke to gaudy excess and a ‘bigger is better' mentality. A trickle of unease wormed its way down his back. All of the servants were Indian. _Master_ Saxon was British. _Relax, Jack, of course he would employ Indians in India._ Still, his shoulders twitched, and he vowed not to play out the imperialistic fantasy. He would not be calling Saxon ‘Master.'

Their escorts led them up the marble central staircase and down a hall with an abundance of brightly polished wooden fixtures. They stopped outside a large wooden door. The taller guard adjusted his uniform shirt before knocking rather diffidently. Another servant opened the door and poked her head out. She scrutinized the three visitors before ducking back in and shutting the door in their faces. Jack glanced at Tosh. She looked rather taken aback. Donna just looked annoyed.

The door opened a moment later and the same servant gestured them inside. Tosh led the way into a cavernous office with the most massive desk Jack had ever seen situated squarely in the back. The walls were dotted with lighted alcoves showcasing a large collection of drums from all over the world. Jack recognized one that was popular in Ghana, three more that looked like they hailed from the American Southwest, and so many others. As they drew closer to the desk, the equally massive leather chair, which had been facing the windows and a view of the sea, slowly swung around.

Harold Saxon looked like an average man, of well-proportioned features, indeterminate age and open countenance. He leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers idly on his armrest as he gazed at his visitors. Jack felt his eyes on him, a curious look, and he resisted the urge to look down and check his clothes. They were sweaty from their walk; nothing he could do about that.

"Mr. Saxon. Thank you so much for seeing us," Tosh said into the silence. "I'm Dr. Toshiko Sato, Head of the Tyler Foundation's Asia Office. This is my assistant, Ms. Donna Noble," and she briefly touched Donna's arm, "and this is Dr. Jack Harkness, one of our most respected doctors."

Jack could feel the weight of Saxon's stare on him. "I know who you are, Dr. Harkness. I am … glad … you were able to make it."

Jack felt Tosh stiffen beside him as Saxon blatantly ignored her introduction. "We were most intrigued by your message, Mr. Saxon," Tosh began again. "The Tyler Foundation – "

"Oh, yes, the Tyler Foundation. Always quick with the helping hand." Saxon steepled his fingers and essayed them with a smile that reminded Jack of nothing so much as a lizard in the sun. Jack darted a surreptitious glance out of the corner of his eye at the door. It was blocked by the two guards. "Be careful, or someone could think you sanctimonious."

"I assure you –" Tosh tried.

"Tell me, Dr. Harkness, how are you enjoying your stay in India thus far?" Saxon interrupted her, still staring at Jack. _Wanker. **Crazy** wanker._

"Jack thinks the hospitality leaves a bit to be desired here," Donna said before Jack could even open his mouth. His lips twitched, and he started to come up with an equally flippant reply, but he was looking right at Saxon and for just the briefest of moments, something profoundly ugly and mean flitted across Saxon's face, before the bland mask was back in place.

"India has been a very nice break," Jack said carefully, sweating slightly as he attempted to keep his answer diplomatic, "and I look forward to it getting even better," he said, thinking of Ianto's impending arrival. "I think it'd be great if the Tyler Foundation could expand its aid here."

Tosh nodded and began to speak once more, but Saxon cut her off yet again. "No," he said, rising and crossing to the front of his desk. "I'm afraid I may have misled you, just slightly, to get you here." 

Jack frowned. Tosh shifted from foot to foot next to him, and on her other side, Donna looked ready to throttle Saxon. Jack wanted nothing less than to join her. "What did you bring us here for, Saxon?" he asked bluntly.

Saxon smiled then, and Jack had to stiffen his knees to avoid taking an involuntary step back. It was the reptilian grin again, smug and condescending. "Perhaps I am sick. I need healing, medicines. In fact, I would go so far as to say, what I need right now is a doctor."

***

Jack straightened from his crouch and cracked his muscles. _Sallow skin, rapid breathing, bloodshot eyes, extreme physical weakness._ Jack frowned. _And the distinct smell of almonds, where there are no almonds._ He'd seen addiction to opium before, but this was more than just that. Saxon had misled them yet again. _Saxon needs a doctor, all right, just not my kind of doctor._

After their ‘meeting' with Saxon, Jack, Tosh and Donna had been led through a maze of corridors in the mansion to a dusty wing by several of the armed guards and the servant who had let them into the study. She didn't speak much, alternating between casting frightened looks at the guards and scowling at them, but she did inform Jack, Tosh and Donna that she was taking them to a very special patient. Jack tried to memorize the layout of the place, but it was completely helter-skelter. _Like Saxon's mind._ They were only taken on inner corridors, with no windows to the outside world.

The question of why Saxon really needed a doctor was answered in the first room they came across. Not a room with patients, but a laboratory, and one they needed gas masks to traverse. It was not in use anymore, but their guards were taking no chances. And when they reached the suite's bedroom, they could see why. 

A woman lay in the bed, and she was dying. Whatever Harold Saxon had been working on in the laboratory, it was not helping her. In fact, Jack thought as he gently swept sweaty hair off her forehead, he'd made things worse.

"Isn't opium addiction supposed to dull your senses?" Donna murmured to him. The servant had left them at the door, and the guards didn't like for them to talk, so she hid the movement of her lips behind her hand as she scratched her nose.

"It is," Jack confirmed. He was allowed to speak in a normal speaking-voice, as the guards thought the doctor should be telling the other two what to do. "I think we can safely draw the conclusion from that abandoned laboratory we passed that Saxon tried curing her of the addiction. But it looks to me that he got her mind back without solving the initial problem."

Their patient made a gurgling noise in the back of her throat and glared at them. Her eyes were slightly clouded with pain, but not the haze of opium, and the anger in them was clearly directed at Jack and Donna.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Jack asked, cocking his head. "Who are you?"

"He loves me . . . besssssst," she whispered in a scratchy rasp. "Fools. . ."

Donna started to speak, but Jack laid a hand on her shoulder in caution. "You mean Saxon?" he asked. "I hate to break it to you, but he's gone round the bend."

She shot him a look so full of hatred he thought he would burn up on the spot. "Leave me," she hissed, and had to swallow before continuing, "in peace! ‘Smine."

A new guard appeared between the two posted in the doorway. "Master. Now," he grunted out.

Jack turned away from the bed and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm busy. Medicines and healing, remember that?"

The guard frowned. "Master. Now," he said again.

Jack sighed. That was probably the extent of the man's English, and Jack didn't know any Malayalam, or enough to communicate, at any rate. "Donna," he said, turning back to her. "Could you try to make her a bit more comfortable? I'll be right back." She nodded, a little doubtfully, and the patient began muttering invectives under her breath.

Jack shot Tosh a reassuring look as he followed the guard out of the bedroom. Tosh sat in the far corner, making an inventory of available medicinal stock. The slight shake of her head to his nod told him there wasn't much there.

Jack's guard led him back through the mansion's confusing passageways, and up the stairs and down the corridor to the massive office once more. Saxon was watching a program on his computer when they entered. His giggles echoed strangely in the too-large room.

"What do you want now, Saxon?" Jack interrupted him, reaching for a bravado he didn't feel. "You do realize I'm trying to do my job here, and you're interfering?"

Saxon quieted abruptly, but his eyes glinted with a malicious twinkle as he flipped his laptop around to show Jack the program. " _Teletubbies_! Can you imagine being _that_ addicted to television that you have to carry it around with you as part of your actual body? What genius came up with this?"

Jack raised his eyebrow.

"Not in the mood for small talk, are we, Dr. Harkness?" Saxon tittered. "Very well then. Report on your patient."

"She's addicted to opium, but you knew that already," Jack said bluntly. "What did you add to the mix? I've seen the effects of opium before, and it's not quite like this. You're not a doctor. You shouldn't have tried to give her anything."

"Why, Dr. Harkness, one could infer from your tone that you don't care for me or how I run my estate."

Jack had to remind himself that they were at Saxon's mercy, and took a breath before replying. "You asked for my medical opinion. I'm a doctor and I gave it to you, in layman's terms."

"A doctor. The man who makes people better. How sanctimonious is that?"

There was that word again. Jack gritted his teeth and asked, "Why are you holding us here? If you wanted a doctor, couldn't you have hired one?"

"Oh, why indeed. No importance to you." Saxon giggled again. "Pay me no mind. Jelly baby?"

Jack shook his head. "No importance?! I hate to break it to you, pal, but it's of the _highest_ import to us. And no, I don't want your candy. I had a tasty granola bar earlier." His stomach rumbled loudly.

"Suit yourself." Saxon bit the head off a baby and chewed gracelessly. "So how are you treating her, then?"

Jack blinked. _Oh. Treating the woman._ "You know I have nothing to reverse the effects, and I won't, unless you give me some supplies or tell me what you gave her as a ‘cure'."

"There you go again, so quick to judge. Hasty, hasty, Dr. Harkness. What makes you think _I_ did anything to her? Isn't she virtually useless now? I would think a competitor would have more to gain from decimating my wife." Saxon leaned back in his massive chair and blinked at Jack, attempting a guileless look. Jack's jaw dropped open.

"Your _wife_?! You let . . . and then you . . ."

"Lucy was perfectly able to make up her own mind," Saxon said, a dangerous glint in his eye. "I didn't get her to do anything she didn't already want to do."

Jack rolled his eyes. Ianto had a dozen different meanings behind his eyeroll, but Jack had only perfected the ‘gimme a break.' At least it was suitable. "Cut the crap, Saxon. You want to tell yourself that? Fine. But you also want her healthy. Well, I want to heal her. Our goals are both a healthy Lucy. So why don't you tell me about your experiments with her . . . cure?"

Saxon slammed his fist down on his desk, hard. "My experiments, is it? Like I'm some sort of mad scientist? Do you know what it is I do all day, Harkness?" He stood up abruptly and strode over to the wide window behind his desk and yanked open the curtains. "I run the future of global communications. The future! Archangel is going to change the world. Want to know how?"

Jack felt like he was suffering from whiplash. What did ‘Archangel' have to do with Lucy Saxon's opium addiction? The cold fingers of unease that'd been tickling his neck since he'd met Saxon became a tight fist around Jack's throat. He couldn't speak, but Saxon didn't wait for an answer.

"It will be irresistible. Cheap, fast communication lines throughout the world. The easy solution. Dare I say, and I do, like an opiate. The poppies? They're for fun. They're a red herring, Harkness. The truly addictive drug here is Archangel. _That's_ the big picture." He pointed out the window, and Jack followed the sweep of his finger. "You see that bird there? It's gathering twigs for a nest. It relies on its nest. It expects the nest to be there when it returns. But what would happen if I were to smash that nest? Chaos!" His eyes flashed with his own inflated view of his brilliance. Jack took a step back.

"What are you talking about, you megalomaniacal freak?"

" _I'm_ the freak? I am just trying to teach humanity a lesson. The human race – they're the greatest monsters of them all. Imagine it, Harkness – everyone, everywhere, relying on Archangel for communication, news, entertainment – and then one day, it collapses. Can you imagine the chaos? Can you imagine the decimation?"

Jack stared at him. Saxon's eyes were shining, and a thin string of drool dangled from his lower lip. Jack wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk from his little face, but he had no sooner taken one step forward when two guards moved up on either side of him. Saxon giggled and gestured to the guards, and Jack felt two ironclad grips seize him. 

"You're standing a little close, even for me," Jack told them. He flexed his muscles, and felt a corresponding tightening of grip from his captors. Their combined strength was greater than his own, he knew it. He glared across at Saxon and summoned his best ‘cartoon hero.' "No one's going to fall for your plan, you realize that, yeah?"

"Of course they will! You see, Harkness, people believe what they want to believe. And they want to believe in the convenience of something like Archangel. Don't you? Wouldn't you like, right this minute, to be able to contact anyone on the planet? To access satellite footage of any one place?"

_Ianto_. Jack kept his face impassive.

"No?" Saxon looked at him out of the corners of his eyes. "Well, just to be sure, I've taken the liberty of sending a team to your hotel, to see if you left any . . . items . . . there."

"You bastard." The outburst slipped past all his internal controls, and Jack tried desperately to deflect. "You were never going to let us leave here alive, were you? Do you even _care_ about a cure for your wife?"

"I have a certain intellectual curiosity, yes, Harkness, and a certain . . . fondness for Lucy. And as to your first question . . ." He took a step forward. "Of course not."

***

Jack tossed and turned on his cot that night. He felt lucky to even have a cot, and a glorified closet in Lucy Saxon's suite to spend the night. The guards had been none-too-gentle on his return to the sick suite, roughly shoving him into his closet and locking him in. They were much more hesitant to manhandle Tosh and Donna, but they were still forced into another cell-like room next to his. It was not at all conducive to helping their patient. Jack could hear Lucy Saxon through his door, shifting restlessly in her bed and mewling softly. 

Worries pressed in on him from every side. Tosh coughed in the room next door, and another joined the list. It was surely only a matter of time before Saxon decided Tosh and Donna – and Jack himself, if he couldn't come up with some way to help Lucy – were dead weight. Their only option was to escape. Jack punched at his thin pillow and tried to run through all the possible exits for the plantation. There were too many guards. They'd have to come up with a distraction.

Jack had managed a whispered conversation with Tosh and Donna through their doors right after the guards left them. They were horrified at Saxon's plans for Archangel, but Lucy was dying. They needed a plan NOW. Donna thought that instigating a riot and getting the workers on their side should be their course of action. Tosh wanted to bring Lucy Saxon with them, as she felt that Saxon had deliberately poisoned the woman and therefore Lucy had to know _something_ about his mad Archangel plan. Lucy herself made not a peep throughout their discussion, unconscious for at least that part of the night. If Donna craned her neck, she could see Lucy, and she informed Jack that Mrs. Saxon was drooling into her pillow. 

Jack yawned and shifted around once more. He wasn't sure Lucy would tell them anything about Saxon, even if she could. She seemed completely under the man's spell. Jack was most concerned with getting the three of them out. They could bring back help, but only if they were free to do so. They needed a distraction. What could they use as a diversion? His eyelids drooped closed and he fell into a fitful sleep. His dreams were plagued with tantalizing images of Ianto that changed to nightmare scenarios. Ianto on his knees, sucking the head of Jack's cock, fingers splayed on Jack's hips became Ianto on his knees, kicked by Saxon's guards, fingers snapped by a heavy boot. Ianto riding Jack's cock, head thrown back and moans rumbling up his throat became Ianto, beaten and bloody, head thrown back in a wordless scream. Ianto sleeping peacefully beside him became Ianto lying lifeless on the ground. Jack jerked awake, trembling, and sprung from his cot.

They had to get away from Saxon. He had to prevent Saxon from ever coming across Ianto. Jack paced his small cell, hands balled into fists. There was a way, there had to be a way. He paused and looked out his tiny window, high in the wall. Moonlight streamed in, leaving a light patch on the floor. Somewhere, Ianto was contemplating that same moon, and worrying and wondering. Somewhere safe, Jack devoutly hoped. He'd failed at protecting Ianto once before. He could not do it again.

He eventually stopped pacing and clenching his fists and tried once more for sleep. His scattered dreams featured Ianto again, but no sex and violence. Ianto in the kitchen, turning to him and saying he was learning how to make coq au vin with cherries and beer in place of the chicken and cognac. Ianto inventorying medical supplies, telling him they were out of raisins and fabric softener. Ianto sitting beside him, not saying anything as he formed a cat's cradle between his hands. Ianto stepping onto a raft made of popsicle sticks and calling over his shoulder to Jack, "Hurry. Hurry. Hurry."

***

The next morning dawned hot and hazy, with a breeze off the water to make it at least slightly manageable. Saxon appeared uninterested in Evil Overlord chats, and Jack, Tosh and Donna were all put to work in one of the barracks, to offer impromptu doctor appointments for Saxon's workers, servants and guards. Jack seethed helplessly at the lack of supplies available to help them. Tosh's inventory from the day before had turned up a canister of tongue depressors, two boxes of plasters, and three bottles of unlabelled pills, mostly empty. All three of them were used to making supplies stretch, but this was ridiculous.

All Tyler Foundation staff went through training to cope with the stress of being in a situation like this, and Jack wrapped himself firmly in his emotional buffer. Seated at the table beside him, Jack could tell that Tosh was using the same technique, keeping her gaze steady and understanding for her current patient. Donna was not doing as good a job of it. Every move telegraphed her fury at the situation. They had to get out of there soon, or Donna's heart was going to break wide open.

Jack worried over the problem all morning. Using one of Saxon's boats was a tempting prospect, but he had no idea if any of the workers would want to escape with them, or could help him sail a boat – the language barrier was proving a large obstacle in gauging any prospects for allies. Escaping overland and disappearing into the trees had its merits, but help was far away. And then there was the question of a distraction. He had no solid ideas, and Saxon's team was closer and closer to discovering Ianto back in Kochi – he was scheduled to arrive in just a few hours.

Saxon requested his presence again at noon. Jack really didn't want to leave Tosh and Donna, but the large guards with guns didn't care about his preferences. Tosh gave him a distracted half-smile as he left, and his spirits rose considerably. She had a look on her face that she wore as a mask when the wheels were turning in her clever brain. With any luck, she'd have a plan when he got back.

Instead of taking him back to the office, Saxon's guards led him back to Lucy's suite.

"You haven't made any improvements!" Saxon raged at him the moment he set foot in the room.

"You mean with the canister of tongue depressors?" Jack snapped back. "You want some help for her, you have to give us something to work with here!"

Saxon looked off-balance for just a moment, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him, despite their talk from the previous night. "No excuses, Harkness," he hissed, collecting himself and pulling himself up to his full height. "You call yourself a doctor? You figure this out."

He swept past Jack with an imperious wave to his guards. The door locked behind him. Jack stared at it for a moment, reeling. _How did a man like that ever get to be the CEO of a lemonade stand, let alone build the largest communications network the world has ever seen?_

"Your husband is mad," Jack directed at Lucy's prone figure. He did a double-take when she began to laugh, a gargly, wheezy chuckle with little mirth. He crossed the room and looked down at her. Her eyes burned with pain and anger.

"My (wheeze) hus-band (gargle, spit) ‘s goin (gurgle, gurgle) _kill_ you." Her mouth formed a lop-sided grin, drool leaking from the left corner of her lips.

"You and me both, Mrs. Saxon," Jack said, and gently wiped away the drool with a clean cloth. "Only I intend to survive."

***

They were locked in together for over 24 hours.

To his surprise, Lucy appeared to grow stronger, as if she was feeding off her hatred for him. He did a complete search of all the rooms in the suite in the first hour, and repeated it again about ten hours later. Lucy just watched him, croaking with malicious laughter. He couldn't help but pity her, even as he wished she would just shut up.

There were only four rooms in the suite, and only one door out to the rest of the mansion; the bedroom door that opened out into the laboratory-like space Saxon had used for his experiments. One of the other rooms was a bathroom, and the other two were the little closet-like cells Jack, and Tosh and Donna, had slept in that first night. There was hardly any furniture left in the rooms, and absolutely nothing sharp or heavy. A small cabinet nailed to the floor contained boxes of crackers and biscuits, but that was it for food.

He tried talking to Lucy, but she only spoke to him when he was not talking to her.

"How long have you been married?" he asked. She closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep.

"Did you tell your husband you wanted to be his guinea pig?" he asked another time, and she chuckled her wheezy, croaking laugh.

"Do you know your husband wants to destroy the world with his Archangel system?" he asked conversationally. That got him another creaky threat that her husband would kill him. "I'm getting tired of that threat," he told her, and went into the bathroom and turned on the water to drown out her gurgling.

He couldn't stay away for long. She was in so much pain, and utterly insane. He longed to be able to help her somehow, but even the unlabelled bottles of pills were now denied to him. The guards had brought them out for the makeshift doctor's clinic he'd held with Tosh and Donna.

He worried incessantly about his companions, and about Ianto. He paced an endless loop around the suite. At first he thought he'd be able to see Tosh and Donna at night, when they were brought to their cell in the suite. But no guard came that night, not even when he pounded at the door for a straight hour.

He slept for a couple of hours in the early morning. He dreamed of Ianto, but differently from the previous night. He dreamed of himself and Ianto as old men, pushing a shopping cart in a Tesco's and debating about fiber supplements and Viagra. He woke up feeling almost refreshed, despite the little sleep he'd had.

Sometime in the late afternoon a key turned in the lock. Jack exchanged a look with Lucy. "You (gargle) die . . . now," she hissed.

He looked back at the door as it swung open.

**Part II**

Ianto leaned across the counter and hit the bell. He'd been traveling eighteen hours, he was hot, sweaty and thirsty, his leg throbbed abominably, and to top it off, Jack had not met him at the airport. He hadn't been expecting him to, really, but he had hoped. He had news from Gwen that he was simply dying to share with Jack in person, plus he simply missed the man's presence. Instead he'd been accosted by a dozen different drivers, all guaranteeing the best ride in India, before getting charged an exorbitant amount for a cab sans air conditioning and to top it off, he had no one to share in his first experience of India. Kochi was beautiful, a mixture of English and Dutch colonial buildings, and more traditional Indian architecture, with enough breeze off the water that, if the cab's windows had gone down farther, would have been quite nice. The smells of cooking, so much richer than the curry shops back in Cardiff, made his mouth water and his stomach growl, but his desire to make it to the hotel and back to Jack outweighed anything else.

He hit the bell a second time, perhaps a mite hard.

"Lovely day, wouldn't you say?"

Ianto sighed, fixed on his common courtesy smile, and turned to face the speaker. He was younger and shorter than Ianto, but with the same pasty complexion born of too many summers on the British Isles.

"Just arrived. Trying to adjust to the new climate," he said with a vague wave of his hand.

"Welsh lad, are you? I have an interest in accents! Have you noticed," the stranger leaned a little too close into Ianto's personal space, "the Arabic influence on Malayalam? I know what you're thinking! Rather obvious, since this is a coastal town and Arabic traders would, of course, make use of the port here. The same goes for Portuguese. Because of the port, ha!"

He laughed delightedly, and Ianto politely joined in. The concierge was still missing, and Ianto glanced surreptitiously around the lobby to see if anyone was wearing a uniform or looked the least bit helpful.

"But I think my favorite part of the whole thing, really," the stranger continued, "is the _meaning_ of the word. Malayalam – mountain ocean. How exquisitely succinct!"

Ianto made a noncommittal noise and slammed the bell for a third time.

"Oh, I don't think anyone's around at the moment, dear chap – someone made a bit of a mess in the courtyard with a basket of bananas and a bicycle – ahem," he stuck a finger under his collar and tugged sheepishly. "And of course, some say it means ‘mountain place' – but that's not nearly as perfect, wouldn't you say?"

He finally paused for breath, and Ianto jumped right in. "Well, it's been nice to meet you, but if they're all in the courtyard, I should probably…" and he gestured out the door.

"Have a cuppa while waiting? Excellent plan, excellent," the stranger draped his arm around Ianto's shoulders. "Come, Ianto, we'll go to my room and wait; I have loads of tea, of course –"

"I don't want any tea!" Ianto exclaimed, and then dug his heels in as the other man's words sunk in. "Wait a moment. How do you know my name?"

The shorter man blinked up at him. "Jack asked me to look for you. Didn't I mention that?"

Ianto closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "No you did not mention that," he said. He was quite proud that his voice did not shake with anger. At least, not much.

"Oh. Well. He was quite sure that we would be fast friends." His mouth quirked into a smile. "So…well met?"

"We haven't actually met, as you haven't told me your name," Ianto said. Calmly. "And where is Jack right now? Shouldn't he be making the introductions?"

"Oh, Jack is … elsewhere; I can fill you in," the man said with a wave of his hand. "I'm John Smith, the eleventh of that name. Here's my card," Smith flexed his fingers, then with a theatrical snap, he placed an ivory-colored business card in Ianto's sweaty palm.

Smithsons'   
Import & Export  
We Move Time and Space for You

Ianto flipped it over. "There's no phone number," he said, looking back up at Smith.

"Really? Must be defective," Smith responded cheerfully. He gave Ianto an oddly hopeful smile. Ianto sighed heavily. Bloody Jack and his bloody adventures. "Fine, then Mr. Smith. Let's go up to your room and you can tell me about why the hell Jack's not here."

***

Ianto leaned against the window sill and sighed. _What have you gotten yourself mixed up in now, Jack?_ He tried to tamp down on the sliver of worry that was worming its way into his heart. He glanced over his shoulder. Smith was at the kitchenette's little table, a newspaper spread out before him. Ianto didn't recognize the language, but Smith appeared to be reading and humming to himself. As Ianto watched, Smith pulled a magnifying glass out of an inner pocket in his suit and began to examine the paper. It was an ad for a sari shop, Ianto could tell that much, though Smith seemed to find something fascinating in the black and white photo of bolts of cloth. With a hitch of his shoulders, Ianto turned back to the view out the window.

Jack, Tosh and Donna had gone out two days before to review potential property for a clinic. They had then left the property and gone to a plantation belonging to some rich developer – a potential donor. They had never returned, and had not called. Ianto clenched his fists to keep them from shaking.

"Let me get this straight, Smith – they arrived safely at this Rahul's property in the morning? And left around 4:00 in the afternoon?" he asked.

Smith jerked up from his newspaper. He'd been bent nearly in half, magnifying glass cutting into the skin around his eye. "What? Oh, precisely that," he agreed.

"Tell me again what they said at Saxon's place? Jack didn't call; you called them?"

"Ah, well, not exactly." Ianto raised a brow and Smith hurriedly continued. "You see, _you_ , or ‘members of the Tyler Foundation' to be precise, received a message at the front desk here, that the three of them were going to stay for a few days, and not to worry, and they'd talk to you later."

Ianto blinked at him. "You stole my message?"

"Well, technically I eavesdropped."

"You eavesdropped on a perfectly innocent message, and worried me needlessly – " Ianto stopped in mid-thought. It _was_ a perfectly innocent message. It sounded not a whit like Jack. And Jack would have called him directly and left a message. And Jack would have asked Ianto to join them. Despite the tenseness of their last few weeks in Ghana, Ianto firmly believed that. "All right," he continued after a pause. "It's a weird message. Jack would not have left a message like that."

"That's what I thought!" Smith nodded enthusiastically.

"What do you know about this Saxon?"

"Absolutely nothing!"

"Wonderful," Ianto muttered under his breath. "Is there an internet café or somesuch place around here?"

***

Ianto eyed the last piece of naan. Smith was in the midst of a game of Scrabble in what looked like a Scandinavian language at the terminal next to him, waiting while a program finished running. As Ianto watched, Smith carefully selected ‘reisen' for his next word, and leaned close to the monitor. _Six whole points._ Ianto shook his head, grabbed the naan and looked back to his own computer.

They'd been at the internet café for three hours now. Thus far, Ianto had determined that no one from the Tyler Foundation had heard from either Jack, Tosh or Donna by phone. Tosh's office in Mumbai, their main office for Asia, had received an email nearly identical to the message left for Ianto at the hotel, ostensibly sent from Tosh. It didn't sound like her, either. There were no personal flourishes in the messages to make them look like they had been written by Jack or Tosh, and nothing to indicate that they would be received by their lover or their colleagues.

Finding information on Harold Saxon was turning into a bit of a bear, too. There was nothing on him until 2007, and then a flurry of news articles and mentions in gossip columns chronicling the life styles of the fabulously rich. Saxon was a technology manufacturer, a shipping magnate, an amateur golf enthusiast, a philanthropist (though Ianto did not recognize the names of any of the charities that listed him as a donor), and an occasional poker buddy of an English actor who starred in several films Ianto had never seen. There were a couple of articles teasing some new software development that would ‘revolutionize worldwide communication' ( _Heard that one before._ ), but his only connection to India was a short piece on his dedication to environmental conservation on the coast of India.

Ianto swallowed the last of the naan and rubbed at the back of his neck. If Jack were here, he'd be able to talk him into a massage. Jack had such warm, large hands, and though Ianto shied away from touching in public, he'd give anything to feel them on his neck and shoulders right now. Jack's thumb along his shoulder blade, Jack's fingers pressing hard against the knots along his spine and then rubbing the tension away, Jack's breath hot against his neck before he gave into the temptation and applied his lips to Ianto's neck in a series of slurping kisses. Jack stepping closer, sliding his hands around to the front, up under Ianto's shirt to splay across Ianto's belly, rubbing circles into the thin layer of soft flesh covering Ianto's muscles. Jack's other hand, moving down, unzipping trousers and dipping into pants. Maybe he'd be gentle and slowly stroke Ianto to hardness, fingers tickling along the throbbing vein, softly squeezing until all thought left Ianto's head. Or maybe he'd be fast and rough and grip hard as his kisses turned to bites and his desperation to see Ianto completely undone played out in the slide and glide of strong fingers stroking a punishing rhythm until Ianto gasped his release.

Ianto jerked awake in his hard plastic chair. He looked around, flushing. Smith was the only other person in their corner of the café, and he was clearly engrossed in his Scrabble. Ianto glanced surreptitiously down at his trousers. No wet spots, thank God. His computer dinged at him for a gchat, and he leaned forward.

RED_LEATHER: ianto! safe in india? how's jack?  
COFFEE_JONES: jack's not around at the moment. india is hot. how are you?  
RED_LEATHER: diverted to mumbai airport – supposed to be going to south africa! i can't believe we're in the same country and going to miss each other!  
COFFEE_JONES: still, south africa – sounds like fun.   
you've worked in india before, though, right?  
remember a bloke named harold saxon at all?  
RED_LEATHER: you're kidding, yeah? stay away from him!  
COFFEE_JONES: what? why?  
RED_LEATHER: megalomaniacal freak, he is.  
COFFEE_JONES: jack, tosh and donna are there – they didn't come back from his farm!  
RED_LEATHER: the man's an unmitigated ass. you should  
[CONNECTION TERMINATED. CONNECTION TERMINATED. CONNECTION TERMINATED…]

Ianto stared at the screen. What was Martha going to suggest? What was the problem with Harold Saxon? Next to him, Smith was knocking at his monitor with his fist.

"Look at that, Jonesy, I lost my game! And that, you know, _program_." He winked.

"It doesn't matter about your game, Smith! Can we extend our time at all?" Ianto craned his neck around to the front desk. The old man who'd given them leave to use the computers for a fee was currently cowering before two large men in some kind of uniform. They made the hair on the back of Ianto's neck stand up. Then one of the men pulled a small folder out of an inner pocket, and Ianto's jaw dropped. The Tyler Foundation logo was easily recognizable, even from this distance. _Better to be safe than sorry._ "Never mind, is there a back way out?"

Smith blinked at him. "Of course there's a back way! Why are we going out the back way?"

Ianto grabbed his notes and hauled Smith up into a crouch. A long wooden bar shielded them from view from the front desk, but any second now the men in uniform would be back there with them. "It's an adventure, Smith. You strike me as an adventurous fellow! Now lead the way out back."

Smith got an excited look on his face, laid a finger to his lips, and led Ianto along the wall and through the swinging door to the kitchen area. A skinny boy of about sixteen looked up from the stove as they crept past. Ianto tried to give a reassuring smile, but he felt like an utter prat. The boy's eyes followed them as Smith shoved open the back door and they tumbled into the evening air.

"We can even take an alley back to the hotel," Smith said in a piercing whisper. "Come on!"

Ianto let him have the lead as he followed him into deepening gloom cast by overlapping awnings and clothing lines stretching across the alley. He glanced behind him at the café's back door a couple of times, but no men in uniform or kitchen boys appeared, and soon they were back on a main road. The sounds of Kochi, the call to prayer from a mosque, wooden rickshaw wheels slapping cobbled stones and hard-packed earth, women calling to each other from market stalls, the distant barks of dogs, all settled like a mantle with the bright noonday sun around their shoulders, swallowing them up and hiding them from prying eyes. They reached the hotel ten minutes later.

Ianto sat heavily on one of the beds in Smith's room. "Those men," he began, "how much do you want to bet they did not just randomly appear at the café? We'd been researching Saxon for an hour or so. Do you think … could he have known? I can't think of any other reason."

Smith shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not much of one for technology. But I suppose if he has access to some kind of satellite, he could possibly put a trace on searches for his name."

Ianto frowned. "I bet Dr. Sato – Tosh – would be able to say so. At any rate," Ianto stood up abruptly as a thought occurred to him, "we should switch hotels. Just to be safe."

Smith gaped at him. "But this place has the best little courtyard! And fresh fruit."

"We're not going to be able to enjoy those things anyhow, Smith. Not with Saxon possibly on our tail. If you want to stay here, I don't blame you. But I'm moving the Tyler Foundation staff out of here."

Smith shook his head. "No, no, that sounds exciting. I'll move too! In fact, I have a buddy, big wart on the side of his nose – don't mention it when you see him; he's quite sensitive about it, you know – and his brother-in-law owns a shop next to this lovely little hotel! I'll see about getting up rooms, and a car to transfer our stuff. Don't you worry about a thing; one hour, it will be all set up!"

Ianto hesitated. "Okay. I'll shower while we wait, then."

The shower was hot and had perfect water pressure. Ianto regretted the necessity of leaving the hotel, but it couldn't be helped. If those men worked for Saxon, then who knew if they were there for an internet Saxon search, or if they were to collect all members of the Tyler Foundation in Kochi. But why? To what end? He hated leaping to conclusions. He needed more FACTS.

When he got out of the shower, Smith was gone, presumably to see about new lodgings. Ianto stretched out on the bed for a moment. He opened his eyes two hours later. _Shit_. He sat up quickly and got a headrush.

The door opened, and Smith pushed in a partially full luggage cart. "Oh, good, you're awake! I took the liberty of packing up Dr. Sato and Ms. Noble's room. I use the same shampoo as one of them!"

"That's great," Ianto said, blinking to get Smith in focus. "I'll get Jack's stuff together. Except, wait, I just remembered, I never got my key to that room."

"No need to worry!" Smith reached into his pocket and pulled out a strange gadget. It looked like a cross between nose hair tweezers, a screwdriver and a child's light-up microphone toy. "I can get it open with my latest invention, lickity split!"

Much to Ianto's astonishment, Smith did have it open very quickly. He moved through the room, gathering up toiletries and a few dirty socks. Jack packed lightly, or rather, Ianto had helped him pack lightly. He ran his fingers over a couple of the ugly t-shirts Jack had insisted on bringing. He could vividly recall their last night together after zipping up this same duffel: the taste of Jack on his tongue, the slide of Jack's skin against his own and his heavy breathing in Ianto's ear. The way Jack said his name when Ianto was buried in his body. He swallowed, and pulled his hand back. "Room's all set," he said gruffly, throwing the duffel over his shoulder and preceding Smith out into the corridor.

They helped their driver load up the car and headed across town to Smith's alternate hotel. It was every bit as nice as the one they had just left, to Ianto's relief, and was located on the edge of a popular market area. They walked several streets over to a restaurant Smith also knew to get some dinner. In all of the excitement of the day, Ianto had forgotten how hungry he was. His worry over Jack warred with his empty gut, combining to cause him to demolish several dishes very quickly and regret it.

Smith regaled him with a story about studying animal behavior out in the field (the field being a meadow in Cambridge) as they made their way back to the hotel. Ianto nodded absently before the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up – again. _We're being watched._ He could see the outline of a couple of men, possibly the same from the internet café, in a shop window and cursed under his breath.

Smith let out a delighted cackle and tugged on Ianto's arm. "Look, Jonesy," he hissed in a loud whisper, "they're moving in packs, hunting at dusk, just like wolves!"

Ianto sped up and pushed Smith in front of him. "Which makes us the prey," he muttered. His eyes darted to the left and caught a glimpse of their pursuers reflected back to him in a copper pot. He counted five, and swallowed a rising tide of panic. All around them, merchants were shuttering their stalls and shops for the evening. The market area was slowly emptying.

_They'll break you; they'll break you for good this time; you won't be able to walk away; you'll fail; you'll be a broken thing of no use to anyone. And Jack will suffer for it._ His mind was gibbering uncontrollably, and he reached out a hand to grip Smith's bicep in an effort to steady himself.

"I'm thinking about doing a study of pack mentality in hunting species," Smith whispered. "This will make for a fascinating chapter!"

"So you're an anthropologist now, along with a shipping magnate, amateur hibachi chef, master magician and male model?" Ianto asked. If he talked, he couldn't hear himself think.

"I prefer fashion icon," Smith replied, with great dignity. Ianto huffed, and picked up the pace again. A large group of men ambled out in front of them, and he steered them over to join in at the back. A quick glance behind revealed their pursuers growing closer. The voice in his head began to shriek and his hand tightened painfully around Smith's arm.

"I didn't know you were Muslim!" Smith exclaimed loudly. Ianto stared back at him, uncomprehending. Several of the men in the group they'd joined raised their eyebrows at him, and Ianto blushed.

"What are you going on about now, Smith?" he asked, tugging them along.

"Well we're going into the mosque at prayer time. If not for prayers, then what?"

Ianto blinked. They were indeed following the men into a mosque. Behind them, their pursuers hovered, uncertain. Smith passed decisively into the courtyard before the entrance, Ianto still gripping his arm.

There were no other Westerners around, but Smith grinned confidently at one of the men. "My friend here is a Muslim. Allah inshallah Allah."

The man stared back at them like they had three heads, and Ianto couldn't fault them. If Smith was going to attempt a little Arabic, why not stick with a greeting like ‘Salaam' instead of … whatever he'd been trying to say. Ianto gave a flimsy smile and nod, and looked around. Everyone was taking their shoes off, and he knelt, pulling Smith down with him.

"We'll stay in the courtyard around the sides, and sneak out a different way," he whispered. "No, no, don't leave your shoes here!"

Smith looked confused, but he rose and followed Ianto, carrying their shoes, around the outside of the mosque itself. Ianto peeked through a tall doorway. The inside of the mosque was open and airy, pillars on the side supporting a high dome in the middle. The men were gathered in the center, and knelt as one.

"Aren't we going to pray?" Smith hissed. Softly, this time, thankfully.

"Um, they're praying for us today," Ianto whispered back. He spied a door in the outer wall, and looked back, hesitating. The worshippers were all repeating the same prayer out loud. _Let there be no one on the other side of this door_ , he added silently. As everyone else leaned forward and pressed their forehead to the floor, he turned the handle, and the two of them stumbled out into a twilit alley. It was clear.

"Come on, Smith," Ianto said, stuffing his feet back into his shoes. Smith stood there, trainers dangling from his fingertips, and frowned back at the plaza.

"That shouldn't have worked! They should have circled the building; there's only so many exits we could use," he said indignantly. "The quality of thug Saxon uses does not speak highly of him," he muttered, finally turning to his trainers.

"Personally, I'll take the unimaginative thugs over the clever ones," Ianto replied. "I think we're about six streets over from the end of our road. . ." Ianto's voice trailed off. Two of their pursuers had appeared at the alley mouth. His heart rate increased sharply. _Flight, flight, flight!_

"Back this way, hurry!" He chivvied Smith along, following the curve of the mosque in the opposite direction. Smith squeaked his assent and they abandoned all pretense of stealth for speed. They rounded the curve directly into two more thugs. Ianto's heart abruptly froze. The lead thug swung his fist at Smith's head, and Smith stepped directly into it, the fist flying harmlessly over his shoulder. Ianto had not a moment to gape at him as the second thug was on him. For each blow he managed to deflect, another landed on his shoulder, his stomach, forcing him back, away from Smith. Smith's attacker finally got a grip on the man, and the next moment, Smith was flailing through the air with a startled yell, before hitting the wall and collapsing in a groaning heap. A trickle of blood ran down his chin.

The sight enraged Ianto. His inner eye flashed on the image of Jack, bleeding into the dust of their courtyard in Kenya, and his left leg gave a sympathetic twinge. He let out his fear in a wordless roar, answered in the distance by the roar of a motorbike, and channeled all of his anger and pain into his attack. He wrestled his own thug up against the mosque wall and slammed the man's head against it once, twice, three times. Smith's attacker came to his thug's aid, and Ianto blocked his fist, ramming his straight arm into the man's tender throat. He went down choking, and Ianto slammed the first man's head into the mosque wall once more. The man slid bonelessly to the ground.

Ianto whirled around as the original two pursuers rounded the curve. A fifth man appeared from the other direction. Ianto flexed his fingers. One or two, one or two? He growled low in his throat, and was answered again by the roar of a motorbike, drawing closer. All three men rushed him, and he fought furiously for the next few moments, kicking and punching. A year of pent-up rage lent him strength, and one of the men hit the ground and did not rise up again. The other two pulled away, catching their breaths, attempting to circle him. Ianto turned with them. He would not be taken from behind again, beaten and discarded without the chance to fight back.

One of the men yelled over his shoulder, and Ianto swore under his breath as five more men came running up the alley to join them. Pack hunting, indeed. They were going to die here, behind a mosque in Kochi, and he would never see Jack again, never wake up to blue eyes smiling at him, never hear that laugh again. His fists and jaw clenched, and the motorbike roared directly behind him.

His attackers drew back uncertainly. Ianto risked a glance at the motorbike, and blinked in shock. Martha Jones, _Martha Jones in red leather!_ gripped the handle with one hand and pointed a sawed-off shotgun at his attackers with the other. The militant pose was only spoiled somewhat by the sidecar attached to the motorbike.

"Get in!" she barked at him, and Ianto rushed to Smith, helping him into the sidecar. Ianto slid behind Martha on the motorbike, and the men surged forward. She waved the gun at them, and they backed off. "Hold this," she commanded, handing Ianto the gun. He hid his surprise on taking it. It was a water pistol, a posh one made up to look like a weapon from a Guy Ritchie film. He thought he might have seen them for sale in the market, one of the times he'd been running through the stalls. Martha revved the engine, Ianto pointed the gun, and then they were turning. The thugs rushed forward as one, but only one reached the motorbike. Ianto rammed the butt of the water pistol in the man's face, and then they were free, out of the alley and zooming across the plaza. Ianto tightened his arm around Martha's waist.

Smith began to chuckle as they picked up speed, transferring to roads with more people heading out for the nightlife. Ianto glanced down at him, startled. Maybe he had hit his head harder than he thought. Smith wiped at the blood on his chin. "I was just thinking about my study on pack hunting, and how I would have to put something in there of the mother defending her young," he said, reaching up to pat Martha's calf.

It wasn't funny, really, but Ianto laughed, too, the tension and adrenaline draining out of him to leave him weakly clutching at Martha as she shook her head at them both.

"Hold on, you daft lot," she murmured. "We're almost back to the den."

***

Ianto woke up the next morning feeling unrested and sandy-eyed. Smith had snored the entire night, after they had spent several hours going over what they learned online with Martha and comparing those notes with her own recollections of Saxon. Ianto still couldn't believe that Martha had just hopped the next flight when she heard of the trouble, but he was incredibly grateful. And even more nervous about Saxon's plans for Jack. He trusted Martha to watch his back in a fight. Smith was still a bit of a puzzle. Ianto wasn't sure how much weight to lend to Smith's interjected anecdotes (Just how many murder mystery dinner parties could one man attend? And the list of his former jobs – sculptor, wedding planner, Shakespearean scholar, among many others – just went on and on.), but they were a good distraction from Ianto's near-crushing worry. He yawned and looked across the aisle at Smith's snoring form. He'd been planning to wake up in Jack's arms – Jack who seldom snored – after a night of rigorous sex. Instead he'd given his room to Martha and bunked down with Smith. He sighed and got out of bed. A shower would go a long way towards preparing him for the day.

Smith had ordered up some breakfast (porridge) by the time Ianto got out of the shower. After hastily cleaning their bowls, they left the hotel, headed to a municipal building Smith said would hold records on Saxon and his property, possibly even a helpful map, while Martha picked up a rental car and various supplies to get them to Saxon's estate, as her motorcycle wouldn't be able to transport their three friends, too.

They were greeted by a tiny older man at the Hall of Records. He led Ianto and Smith to his own office and gave them a thin folder. Ianto perused the contents while Smith carried on a conversation with their host in an attempt to get additional, less official information. Ianto glanced over the information on Saxon's manufacturing plants and concentrated on the permit for his land in the state of Kerala. It was officially listed as a nature reserve and stretched from the sea to several kilometers inland. Ianto frowned at the paper. Saxon was also authorized to build a small dock for his own boats. There was a restriction on the size of the boats, but Ianto could easily imagine how easy it would be to smuggle something from a small boat out to a larger ship in the waters off the coast. There'd recently been a rash of piracy in that area of the Arabian Sea, led mainly by Somali pirates. But if they were already pirating, who's to say they were not also smuggling? But smuggling what? And how did Jack, Tosh and Donna get mixed up in it?

Ianto's thoughts were interrupted by a loud squawk from Smith. The old man was standing and gesturing wildly towards the door. Suppressing a sigh, Ianto rose to his feet, took the arguing Smith by his elbow and pulled him out into the hall. The old man's yells followed them through the Hall.

"What on earth did you say to him?" Ianto asked as the door closed behind them.

"What did _I_ say to _him_?" Smith wrenched his elbow away and smoothed down his suit jacket. "Indeed! The man _claims_ to have a hobby of tinkering with all sorts of mechanical gadgets, but does he have the slightest modicum of respect for my all-in-one screwdriver? No! No he doesn't!"

Ianto rolled his eyes. "And Saxon? I don't suppose you mentioned him at all?"

"Hmmm? Oh. Yes. Saxon is an odd duck. He's hired an entire security force to monitor his so-called nature reserve," Smith said as they made their way back onto one of Kochi's main avenues, "and guess how many scientists? Or conservationists or anything animal-related?"

"I'm going to go with zero," Ianto said, dodging around a gaggle of children.

"Right in one," Smith replied, flattening against the side of a building as a too-large truck came rattling by them.

"We need to get up there and see it for ourselves." Ianto eyed Smith warily. "How are you at stealth in the, ah, field?"

"Jonesy! I am a master of disguise, anytime, anywhere!"

"Hrm. Well. Let's see if Martha has the vehicle and supplies. I want to head up there as quickly as possible."

***

They left Kochi an hour later. Ianto insisted they follow the same exact route Jack and the others should have taken, just in case they had not, in fact, made it to Saxon's estate. Soon after passing Rahul's property, they came across a jeep with a flat tire on the side of the road. Ianto stopped the car and they all got out to survey it. Ianto knelt down in the dust and inspected the tire. It looked to be a legitimate flat tire, at least. He sighed and laid a hand on the bumper. He missed Jack with a physical ache. The past month had been so hard on them as a couple, and he'd put so much faith in this trip to help heal that. A reconnection, in a new place, with none of the same worries, where they could just focus on each other. He craved it: waking up in Jack's arms, no one interrupting them, the past staying safely where it belonged – in the past. Maybe they should get a boat and sail around for a bit. No one else on the ocean, surely. Of course, he knew nothing about boats, but that was a minor hurdle. He smiled sadly to himself. He bet Jack knew about boats.

Martha poked her head out of the jeep. "Oi. I found a granola bar. Looks like they took the spare water and their maps and papers and things with them."

"I bet Jack's missing that granola bar," Ianto said. "The tire was punctured by a sharp rock. Totally natural."

"Then they must have continued on foot from here," Martha said. "What do you think? Should we drive, or go by foot ourselves?"

Ianto chewed his lower lip. "Let's drive until we get to a better turn-off where we can hide the car," he decided.

"Good idea!" Smith agreed. "I've always wanted to do something like that."

Martha grinned. "Well, you can be in charge of the design, how's that?"

They only drove for about ten more minutes before the road grew too narrow to navigate. Smith leaned through the gap in the front seat and pointed out a tiny space between trees on the right side of the road. Martha unloaded their gear as Ianto helped Smith put up a screen of greenery to hide the car. Ianto stepped back, hands on hips, and turned a critical eye on their work. He had to admit that Smith knew what he was doing. The vehicle was completely hidden. He watched, amused, as Smith bent low and gently teased up the grass their tires had flattened. Martha pulled the GPS from her pack and read out the coordinates of the car.

"Okay, then." Ianto shrugged into his pack. "Anyone object to fighting through the underbrush?"

"No, we should definitely stay hidden," Martha agreed.

"Oh, yes!" Smith nodded. "Say, have I ever told you about the time I infiltrated an office building? It was … nothing like this job, actually. Except for the infiltration part. See they were selling these phony weight loss supplements…"

***

Ianto hunkered down behind a tree and sipped from his water bottle. It was fairly late in the afternoon, and they had circled all around Saxon's valley estate. Smith's eyes had popped at the sight of all the poppies, and he'd been making _Wizard of Oz >/em> references the whole day. He quieted down after the first glimpse of Saxon's security forces. They walked the perimeter in teams of three and were heavily armed. Martha had exchanged a quick look with Ianto at their first narrow escape, sliding down a gentle slope and hiding in the damp shrubbery. They had two stun guns in their arsenal. And, Smith was quick to point out, his multi-functional screwdriver. They'd be toast in a full-on fight. Ianto wondered, not for the first time, if they should have waited for some kind of back-up, but then he thought of Jack. The odds that he was being held against his will increased each time Ianto spotted a guard, and he hardened his resolve._

"Everyone ready?" he asked softly. Martha nodded from one tree over, and Smith raised his arm and gave a thumb's up from where he was lying amongst some bushes.

Ianto looked up the slope. They were at the far end of Saxon's property, the sea to their right. This slope had to lead to his actual living quarters, or some sort of structure to contain Jack, Tosh and Donna. He took a deep breath and led the way at a half-crouch. The trees thinned about halfway up, so they crawled the rest of the way on their bellies and peered over the lip of the rise. Saxon's compound was spread out in the valley below them, and beyond that, the fields of poppies they'd bypassed earlier in the day. Ianto gingerly pulled out his notebook and began to sketch the layout. To his left, Martha had her binoculars glued to her eyes as she counted out the guards and their placements. To his right, Smith flopped onto his back and stared up at the sky. "Look, Jones! An Indian Shag! Did you know they used to be called ‘sea ravens' – not that we should take that as an omen, naturally."

"Naturally," Martha muttered.

"How is a raven like a writing desk?" Smith mused.

"They're equally useless in this situation," Ianto answered softly. "Martha? How many guards?"

"I count eight around that posh building in the middle – Saxon's home and possibly office, I'd say. The other buildings are much more sparsely guarded. Six other guards on a rotating shift for the whole place." She shifted up onto her elbows. "I can't rightly tell for the fields, but I'd say, oh, a good dozen." She lowered her binoculars and met Ianto's eyes. "And the entire lot's armed."

"Brilliant," Ianto sighed. "Okay, plan. Do we hunker down and wait for nightfall?"

"We may have to – anyone looking out a window could spot us amongst the buildings. There's not exactly any cover, and we don't know where to look, besides," Martha replied.

Ianto grunted his assent, though the waiting chafed. "This is just so bizarre!" he burst out, and immediately lowered his voice. "What is Saxon playing at? He's a communications systems manufacturer _slash_ opium smuggler? Only Jack could get pulled into this mess."

Martha gave him a sympathetic look. "We'll get him back, Ianto. Tosh and Donna, too."

"We'd better," Ianto mumbled, "so I can tell him off."

"Well, that's odd," Smith remarked, and Ianto gave a little start. He'd almost forgotten about the other man during his conversation with Martha, and if _Smith_ thought something was odd . . .

"Dare I ask?" Ianto wondered.

"I thought I saw I saw the ginger lady," Smith answered, and both Ianto and Martha hurriedly moved closer to him to see. Ianto couldn't spot Donna anywhere, but something else made his heart catch in his throat.

"Hang on, now! Look at the fields —fire!" Smith exclaimed. "All those poppies!"

**Part III**

"Donna?!" Jack gasped. "How – never mind; let's go!" He pulled her into a tight hug and bussed her on the lips before releasing her and moving eagerly towards the door.

"Right," Donna agreed, a tad breathlessly. "Give me a hand with Mrs. Saxon."

Jack paused in the doorway. "Donna, I don't think . . ."

Lucy Saxon stared at him, smirking. "Abandoning your oaths, _Doctor_?" she wheezed.

"Of course he's not!" Donna snapped, striding over to stand by the bed. "Come on, Jack!"

Jack walked slowly back to the bed and looked down at Lucy. "Do you want to leave, Lucy?"

"You're going to take me out of here," she managed, struggling up on her elbows, "but I'm never _leaving_. I'll never leave Harold. I chose him!"

It was the longest uninterrupted speech Jack had heard from her. He exchanged a glance with Donna. Her brow was furrowed in confusion. "Well . . . we can at least try?"

Jack nodded, despite his misgivings. He really _couldn't_ leave Lucy behind, not sick and in pain when there was something he could do about it. He scooped her up, one arm beneath her knees and the other supporting her shoulders, like she was his beloved bride. She squawked in protest, but her eyes glittered with something like anticipation. But anticipation for strangling Jack or possibly seeing her Harold again, Jack couldn't say.

"Lead on, Donna. What's our plan?"

Donna moved quickly through the suite and poked her head down the corridor. "Still clear, good. Follow me. Here's the deal: after they took you away, we got assigned as new housecleaners and given these lovely dresses." For the first time it registered on Jack that Donna was wearing Saxon's servant uniform. It was obviously made for someone shorter, as it barely made it to her knees. "So of course we broke into Saxon's office under the pretext of dusting his damn drum collection. And Tosh hacked his computer." She looked back over her shoulder and flashed Jack a grin. "She's brilliant. Anyhow, she got some techno mumbo jumbo stuff on that Archangel thing – don't ask me, it made no sense – and she found something else."

Donna paused in her recitation at another crossroads and pulled a slip of paper from her pocket. "We turn left here," she mumbled.

Jack shifted Lucy against his chest. "Not to interrupt, Donna, but where the hell are all the guards?"

"They're a little distracted."

"By . . . ?"

"Um, Tosh is firing the poppy fields. Not one anyone is working in!" she added hurriedly at his widening eyes. "We thought we could get some allies from the other servants, but that didn't go over too well. So she's doing it, and we'll meet her in the garage."

"Dammit, we have to hurry. I don't want Tosh stuck out there with a burning field and no back-up!" Those guards could tear her apart.

Donna nodded, eyes clouding with worry. "One more corridor," she said. "Anyhow. The other thing Tosh found? Saxon has a very full file on the Tyler Foundation staff."

Lucy made a noise at that, a strangled little moan, and Jack looked down at her, trying to see her face. Her eyes were closed and chin down, hiding her expression. "What do you know about this, Lucy?" he asked. "Is this why you hate me?"

Lucy breathed heavily through her nose and clenched her hands into gnarled little fists, but wouldn't speak.

"Never mind," Jack sighed in exasperation. "We almost there, Donna?"

"Yup," she said, and rounded one last corner. Jack looked over her shoulder. A door to the outside world, finally.

"Where does this put us?" he asked.

"In a back garden," Donna replied. "This is a servant entrance – the kitchen's right next to us. This is a door for getting veggies and things from the gardens to the kitchen."

Donna cautiously pressed against it, turning the handle, and slowly slid her head outside to get a look around. "Oh, wow, that fire is huge!" she exclaimed, pushing the door all the way open and stepping outside. Jack hurried out behind her, careful to not jostle Lucy too much against the doorframe.

Smoke billowed up from the poppy fields. More than one was on fire. Jack could just make out little figures in guard uniforms, highlighted by the flames. "Remind me not to ever cross Toshiko." He shook his head, breaking his reverie. "Garage, Donna?"

"Right." She nodded her head decisively. "This way."

Jack followed along the perimeter of the mansion as Lucy mumbled to herself in his arms. He wondered if the firing of the poppy fields bothered her, or if she was glad to be rid of them. He couldn't read Lucy. A shiver danced along his spine.

"There it is," Donna whispered, stopping abruptly. The rest of the way to the garage was across the central courtyard, with no cover. Jack craned his neck around. He couldn't see any guards. Or servants, either.

"Where are the servants?" he asked Donna, and she shrugged.

"Taking advantage of the diversion and scattering? We got the impression that they wouldn't stop us. All of the servants are in debt to Saxon. If something destroys his base in India, well, all to the good. They just didn't want to get caught helping."

Lucy grunted in Jack's arms, and muttered something that sounded like, "Ungrateful." Jack rolled his eyes.

"Okay, I say we go for boldness. It's just a few yards, and I can't see anyone over here. I can't move fast with Lucy here," he gave her a little squeeze and she yelped, "so if you just cover your hair, from a distance, we could look like we belong here."

"That'd be good, except I hate head coverings. I don't have one on me," Donna said.

"Okay. The crouch-run it is, then." He smiled at her. "Let's go thank Tosh for her wonderful diversion, shall we?"

They were halfway across the courtyard when Jack spotted Saxon, leading about a dozen guards and heading straight towards them. His hands closed convulsively around Lucy and she looked up. "Shit," he hissed.

"Harold!" Lucy called, her voice breaking. "Harold!"

Donna sped up, one arm going behind Jack to help him along. They stumbled into the relative safety of the garage and pulled up short. There was only one car in the garage, a classic Aston Martin that had definitely seen better days, and several piles of junk and a couple of rickshaws. Tosh looked up from her inspection of the car's engine.

"Toshiko! You okay?" Jack gasped out, lowering Lucy carefully to the floor. Donna crossed the space and drew her into a quick hug.

"I'm fine, except for the utter failure of the escape portion of our plan," Tosh answered, patting Donna's back. "How could he treat his car this way? Can you get it running, Jack?"

"Let me look at it. You two try to block the doors; Saxon is right on our tail." 

It didn't look promising. Jack ruthlessly squashed a wave of panic. Oil. It needed oil first thing, get a little lubrication going. Lucy began to cackle from her spot on the floor, and Jack wondered for a second if he had made the obvious joke out loud.

"You're trapped! Harold's got you!" she cooed. "He's got us all." She smiled loopily. "Harold travels by boat, not cars."

"You couldn't have mentioned this earlier?" Donna snapped at her. "You knew we were heading for the garage!"

Jack looked down at Lucy. _Of course she knew. That's why she didn't say anything._ Lucy met his eyes and gave him a sardonic smile.

An outboard motor sounded from a distance, and quite clearly, right outside the garage, Saxon's voice reached them, "Half of you, get to the docks and SEE WHAT'S GOING ON!"

Half. Leaving Saxon and six armed guards for them. The odds were better, though still terrible. Jack ran to one of the piles of junk. "Tosh, Donna – here, arm yourselves –"

**SMASH**! Jack ducked as the window next to him shattered. "What was –" He looked around wildly and spotted the grenade two seconds before it detonated. He was blown back against the wall and slammed into it, sliding to the floor. His ears were ringing and his eyesight did a little loop-de-loop before settling.

Fine Italian leather shoes paused in front of him and Jack blinked up at the form of Harold Saxon. His lips were moving, no doubt revisiting his Evil Overlord speech, and Jack was actually a little grateful that he could hear only ringing in his ears. He looked around the smoky interior of the garage. The Aston Martin was crumpled. A guard stood over Toshiko, slumped against the far wall, but conscious. Donna's distinctive red hair was splayed out all around her, a few feet away from Tosh. She wasn't moving and Jack narrowed his eyes. Was her hair a darker red than usual? _Please not that_. He couldn't see Lucy at all.

The ringing stopped abruptly.

" – and all I ask if my due. Simple acknowledgement of my genius. This could have all been avoided. Why on earth did they have to send _you_?" Saxon paused in his tirade to draw breath.

"Who were you expecting, the Queen of England?" Jack muttered, sitting up straighter. How many guns, how many guns, he needed to count the guns.

"Smith! John Smith!" Saxon waved his hands in the air. "Haven't you been listening?!"

Jack gaped up at him. "What?"

"Archangel, Harkness. I have created a thing that is going to irrevocably change the world, and Smith runs around thinking he can still save it with his little foundation. News flash: the world's not worth saving. _Everyone_ is corruptible. Just look at my bloody wife!"

"You – wait." His brain was moving sluggishly, trying to keep up with Saxon's madness. What did Smith have to do with anything? And which Smith, come to think of it? "Which Smith?"

"What do you mean, which Smith? John Smith!"

"There are eleven John Smiths, Saxon." Jack detected a movement near the door. _Lucy . . . ?_

"They're all the same man, Harkness. All so focused on finding the good. Morons. John Smith was supposed to come here. I wanted to explain! I wanted him to see that I'd won!"

"What about healing Lucy?" Jack asked, frowning.

"Lucy? Lucy was a convenient excuse to keep you here. She's nothing. Nothing."

"Nothing?" a voice rasped out. Jack looked around Saxon to find Lucy, standing on wobbly legs, supported by one of her husband's guards. "I am nothing to you, Harold? Have I always been nothing?"

"You were very useful, Lucy. Now go sit down before you fall over. There's blood all down your dressing gown," Saxon dismissed her. There _was_ blood all over Lucy. Her face was stark white, and Jack was amazed that she was standing, even supported as she was. 

"But I chose you, Harold," Lucy whispered in her hoarse voice. Jack winced. Lucy's illusions were no more solid than the clouds of smoke and dust from the grenade, and she withered visibly as Saxon dispelled them.

"Understandable," Saxon said. "But you're dying now, Lucy. Why don't you lie down and do it in peace?"

Jack knew exactly what she was going to do the second before she did it, and he opened his mouth to say her name – to convince her not to? To encourage her? He couldn't tell – but she moved too fast. She grabbed the gun from the holster of her startled guard and aimed it at Harold Saxon, firing three quick rounds.

Everyone froze, except for Saxon, whose eyes opened wide, so wide as he toppled slowly to the floor. Jack struggled up on one knee to move toward him, but Saxon pushed feebly at his hands. "It's always the women," he mumbled.

"Jack!" Tosh called, and he lifted his head from Saxon's death scene. Her guard was moving from foot to foot, uncertain whether he should finish off the intruders, or forget about it as the guarantee for his next paycheck expired before his eyes.

"Your Master is dead," Jack told him. The guard seemed to understand. "You should go while you can." The man's fingers tightened on his gun and his eyes darted to Lucy's guard, still standing there with his mouth open, catching flies. "Take him, and your buddies watching this building, and get out before the authorities get here."

Lucy muttered something to them in Malayalam, and that decided matters. Her guard lowered her to the floor and they both left. Jack approached her carefully. She still held the gun. "Lucy?" he asked.

She looked at him without seeing him. "He said I was nothing," she whispered in a wheeze. She curled up into a ball. "I told them to take his precious drums. They're worth something."

Jack touched her shoulder. "Let me see where you're hurt, Lucy."

"I'm already dead, Harkness. See to your ginger girl. Get the hell out of my sight."

"Jack, she's not waking up," Tosh called to him. He gave Lucy one last look, which she ignored, before he turning his back on her and stepping around the detritus of the exploded junk piles to get to Tosh and Donna.

Tosh gave him a worried look. He avoided meeting her eyes. Donna _was_ bleeding from her scalp. It looked like she had hit her head in the blast. Jack gave her a quick perusal. It didn't look like she had any other injuries, and the cut on her scalp wasn't near as deep as others he'd seen. Still, she was utterly comatose and they had no means of transportation . . . 

"Didn't I see a couple of rickshaws in here when we came in?" Jack asked. "I want to get Donna to a hospital."

Tosh made a low sound in her throat and he reached over and grabbed her hand. "Tosh. I don't think it's life-threatening. Head wounds are tricky, though, so the sooner we get her to a hospital, the better."

Tosh nodded and cleared her throat. "The rickshaws were in the back right corner."

Jack picked his way through the strewn junk to the corner. One of the rickshaws had a crushed wheel, but the other actually looked serviceable. It had been spared by some metal sheeting falling at an angle and blocking it from the grenade. "We're in luck!" he announced. It took a little doing, but between him and Tosh, they were able to finagle it out and clear of the blast zone, and then get Donna onto the bench. Jack went back for Lucy.

She had died quietly while they worked to get free. Jack knelt and felt for her pulse, just to be sure. Lucy Saxon had left her body.

"Jack?" Tosh asked softly from the rickshaw.

"She's not leaving this place, she said." He closed her eyes and rose to his feet. "But we are."

He took his place at the front of the rickshaw and gripped the handles, pulling them out of the garage, across the compound and up the hill, leaving the Saxons and their burning estate behind.

***

Ianto gaped at the fire until Martha poked him in the shoulder. "Ianto! That's probably our signal, come on!"

"Wait!" Ianto caught at her sleeve as she surged forward. "Look!" He pointed to a group of guards and a man in a suit, the only ones running away from the fire. He couldn't see what they could see from his angle. "What do you think the chances are . . ."

"That they're running _towards_ the same people we're here to rescue?" Martha finished. "What is it with Jack and attracting people who want to kill him?"

"It's a gift," Smith said very seriously. "I have it, too."

"Brilliant," Ianto replied. "Right, I think we need a diversion from . . . their diversion."

"The boats?" Martha asked, raising a brow.

"The boats," Ianto answered.

"Oh, yes, the boats," Smith chimed in.

Ianto rose to a half-crouch, though the guards and man in a suit weren't looking towards them. Ianto just felt safer hunched all over. He began to run, the other two following him, towards the docks. It wasn't far, and they made it while the other group was still approaching their target. Ianto still couldn't see what they were trying to do.

There were four boats tied up at the docks. "We'll just do two?" Martha huffed and he nodded.

"Yeah, no need to stick around here longer than we have to. Smith, will you be lookout?"

"With pleasure!" Smith exclaimed.

Ianto knelt at the first boat, and Martha set to work on the one across from him. He gave the outboard motor a couple of tugs, and it sparked to life. He sighed with relief, as that was the extent of his boating knowledge, garnered from watching _Hawaii Five-O_ reruns as a kid. That, and he had to untie the rope thing connecting the boat to the dock. _Well, that decides it. Jack and I are definitely going out on a boat after this so I can learn the proper terms and not sound like a prat in my own head._

Martha's boat also sparked to life, and Smith shouted down from the start of the dock. "Looks like they heard us! Hold on there, what are you doing?" he asked, running to Ianto.

Ianto pushed the boat away from the dock with his foot. "Diversioning."

"We're not going in the boat?" Smith asked.

"No, we just want them to _think_ we did," Martha answered, joining them. "Come on, let's see if we can get out of here without being seen."

They had just made it to the end of the dock when a loud explosion sounded from the compound. Ianto's heart caught in his throat and he almost tripped over his feet in his desire to take off towards the noise.

"Ianto, get down!" Martha yelled behind him and he fell gracelessly to his stomach. A bullet flew over his head and lodged itself into the wood of the dock.

"Diversion was a success, then!" Smith ran to him and helped him up to a crouch. "Shed to our left!" Smith tugged him over to a barrel – and why were there always these barrels on docks, what did they possibly contain, he'd have to add it to his list of things to ask Jack about boating, and shit he was babbling now – and they hid behind it.

"Wait, where's Martha?" Ianto asked, looking around wildly.

"Here!" she called, pushing open the door to the shed. Another bullet hit their barrel and Ianto wrinkled his nose. _Something pickled. Solves that._ He and Smith crawled into the shed.

"Any brilliant ideas? Anyone?" he asked, a little breathlessly. "I bet Jack's where that explosion was."

"I don't doubt it, knowing Jack," Martha agreed. "But how do _we_ get there?"

Ianto risked a glance out the window. Figures were slowly approaching the docks. "I count . . . six armed guards coming his way. They don't know that all we have are a couple of tasers. They're going slow."

"That's not all we have!" Smith was eyeing the contents of the shed, hands on his hips. He gave Ianto and Martha a wide grin. "It'll be the work of a moment to concoct a little surprise!"

"With tar and rope?" Martha asked raising her brow. She stepped closer to Smith. "I don't think –"

"Wait, Martha!" Ianto held up his hand. "Walk over that bit again!"

"What?" she asked, turning to him and taking another step forward.

"No, back up one!"

"Ianto, what –"

He rushed forward and pushed aside the reed mat on the floor. The outline of a trapdoor was clearly visible.

"Brilliant!" Smith breathed. "And thank goodness for my handy dandy screwdriver!" He knelt down and plunged his gadget into the keyhole. Ianto shot another glance out the window. The guards were practically on top of them. "And in we go!" Smith exclaimed. "Ladies first."

Martha shot them a grin and scrabbled down the steps. "There's a corridor!" she called up. Ianto heard her unzip her bag and rummage around inside, then light shone up the steps. "A long one!"

"Go on, Jonesy, I'll go last and lock it behind us!" Smith brandished the screwdriver excitedly and Ianto hurried to follow Martha down the steps, Smith at his heels. They didn't wait to hear if the guards checked out their shed but immediately took off down the corridor. Ianto tried to orient himself against what he remembered of the compound.

"What do you think, Martha? Are we headed towards the . . . garage?" he asked.

She shrugged. "My sense of direction is crap down here. But I suppose that makes sense, you know? Connect the two forms of transportation. If one thing arrives by car, you could smuggle it out by boat with none the wiser."

It wasn't long before they came to another set of steps, leading up. Smith pushed forward. "Allow me. Screwdriver, you know."

There was a soft snick, and Smith slowly raised the trapdoor. "Oh, my! Quickly, get up here!"

Ianto and Martha exchanged a look, then he went scrambling up the steps. Martha followed immediately after him. The trapdoor fell shut with a bang, unnoticed by them as they took in the destruction.

Junk was strewn all about the garage, across the floor, crushing an Aston Martin – an actual Aston Martin, Ianto's heart did a little flip – and over by the door – 

"Oh my God," Martha breathed. She moved towards the woman, though she looked quite dead to Ianto. The man, though, still had the barest spark of life in his eyes. Ianto and Smith crouched on either side of him.

"Sir?" Ianto asked quietly. "Are you Harold Saxon?" He could be. The pictures Ianto had seen on the web depicted a smiling, healthy Saxon, but this near-corpse could certainly be the same man. Saxon's eyelashes fluttered, trying to open wider.

"Smith?" he croaked. Ianto looked at Smith, startled, and Smith shrugged his shoulders.

"Ah, yes?" he answered.

"Look, Smith." Saxon half-raised a bloody hand. "I won."

Ianto looked around at the destruction of the garage, at Martha, shaking her head over the body of the dead woman. There was no sign of Jack, Tosh or Donna. What on earth had he won?

"Sorry, old chap. Were we in a contest?" Smith asked kindly.

Saxon looked at him for a long moment before he started to cackle. "You're the wrong Smith!" he wheezed. "You're actually the wrong Smith! That's rich! Oh! I thought you would understand!"

"Listen, Saxon, I'm a nurse and we have a doctor here," Ianto said, interrupting Saxon's rambling. "Let us see to your wounds."

"Though you'd understand," Saxon wheezed again. His mouth went slack and his eyes dull and just like that, Harold Saxon departed this mortal coil.

Ianto stood up slowly. "I want to find Jack and get out of here," he declared. His hands were shaking, and he stuffed them into his pockets.

Martha gave him a sympathetic look. "Yeah. Come on, Smith."

Smith gently closed Saxon's eyes and then rose to his feet. "No arguments here."

They stumbled out of the garage. The fires in the poppy fields were starting to die down. Several guards were carrying items from a large mansion down to the docks and one of the two boats left there. They completely ignored Ianto, Martha and Smith. _No one's in charge anymore._ Ianto shaded his eyes with his hand.

"Martha, may I borrow your binoculars?" he asked, his heart rate quickening. She wordlessly handed them over, and he focused them on the road leading out of the compound. A rickshaw was disappearing over the rise, but he was just able to catch a flash of red hair in the back.

"That rickshaw was carrying Donna," he said, pointing to where it disappeared. "And where we find Donna, we'll find Jack and Tosh."

"Let's cut them off at the pass, then," Martha said, stuffing her binoculars back in her pack and slinging it over her shoulder.

They took off at a jog, cutting overland for a more direct route. Each step brought him closer to Jack, and Ianto's heart began to beat harder, a quick "Ja-ack" rhythm. They made it to the road before the rickshaw passed by, and Ianto turned to look back down the road.

Then, finally, an achingly familiar figure appeared at the top of the previous rise. _Jack_. Ianto felt the fist unclench from around his heart. Jack, battered, exhausted and bruised, but so wonderfully alive. His feet were moving of their own accord. He was dimly aware of Martha calling out to Jack and the others, but her voice sounded as if from a great distance. Jack heard it, though, and looked up, eyes searching until he spotted Ianto.

A part of Ianto felt a little ridiculous for the picture they must have made, two lovers running to each other in a dusty lane in the hazy Indian dusk. Someday, he'd retell this story, and in it, there would be no desperate touching of each other's faces, no muffled half-sobs, no tears sheening blue eyes. He would leave the kisses in, but just one or two, and not mention that Jack's mouth tasted like old socks, or how frantically he peppered Jack's jawline with a string of little kisses, or how tightly Jack clung to his neck.

After a few moments, Jack took a step back, just enough to speak. "Ianto, you're here . . . and . . . I really need your help with Donna. How did you . . . and how did that . . . and, wait, did I hear Martha calling my name?"

Ianto took his face in his hands and pressed a firm kiss to his lips. "Right. Martha and Smith are here with me. We came to rescue you. Which . . . right. Looks like you did fine on your own. Now tell me what's the matter with Donna." He finally registered that neither Tosh nor Donna had spoken yet. 

"She hit her head in a little explosion. I want to get her someplace with an MRI." Martha made her way down to them while Jack was talking, Smith trailing along behind her, and Jack threw his arms around her while still trying to hold on to Ianto. Ianto gently peeled his fingers away to go to the rickshaw.

"Tosh?" he asked softly.

Tosh raised her head slowly. "She won't wake up."

"May I see her, Tosh?"

She shifted slightly and Ianto got a good look at the side of Donna's face. A little blood trickled from a cut in her scalp, less than he would expect. That could be good news. Her skin was rather ashen and her breathing shallow, and he frowned. Though she _was_ breathing, so that was something, at least. He finished his detached assessment and then allowed himself to truly see her: Donna Noble of the indefatigable spirit and larger-than-life personality. He could draw direct parallels between the pairing of Tosh and Donna, and him and Jack. 

"Tosh," he said, keeping his voice steady and low. "We have a jeep stashed less than a mile from here."

Her eyes widened, and he nodded. "We're going to get her to safety, Tosh."

Martha and Smith left their packs with the rickshaw and set out at a run to get the jeep and bring it back to them. Ianto dug into the packs and handed over water bottles and some snacks he'd packed. Jack ate like a starving man, and Ianto cursed himself for not packing even more food. Tosh nibbled at her dried fruit, but gulped down the water.

Jack told him a very garbled version of what had happened at the estate and Ianto tried to pay attention to the meaning of the words instead of losing himself in the relief of Jack, solid and alive and standing right next to him. Harold Saxon was insane, he gathered that much, and they needed to do something about some software he'd developed. And there was something about a sick wife, and a history with John Smith – 

"I know that bit," Ianto said, when Jack paused to shove more crackers in his mouth. "We saw Saxon. He – he died in the garage. He reacted strangely to John Smith."

"Wait, he was _alive_ when you saw him?" Jack asked, crumbs flying.

"Not for long. He just sort of laughed when he saw Smith and, well, died."

Jack and Tosh exchanged looks. "Did Smith know him?" Jack asked.

"No, I don't think so. Why?"

Jack took another draught of his water before answering. "I think Harold Saxon felt some sort of connection to John Smith. Like they were in competition, almost."

"There are eleven John Smiths, though. Not exactly a close contest," Ianto pointed out.

"I don't think that mattered to Saxon."

Ianto frowned. It was a little sad, really, but compared to the pain Jack, Tosh and especially Donna had suffered, Ianto wasn't in the forgiving mood. The setting sun was gilding Jack in gold and Ianto didn't stop to think about it, just stepped forward and pulled Jack to him. He was still holding him when Martha and Smith pulled up in the jeep, and only released him to help maneuver Donna into the back seat. They sat squashed together in the far back for the ride back to Kochi, but Ianto didn't mind the tight fit in the slightest.

***

There was an awful lot of confusion surrounding the burning of Saxon's estate once they reached Kochi. Jack was happy to leave the explanation in Smith's hands and head to the hospital with Donna, Tosh and Ianto. He would have to tell Ianto about his captivity eventually. He even wanted to. But for right now, he wanted to banish all thoughts of Harold and Lucy Saxon to a dark corner of his mind and focus instead on his loved ones.

The hospital was crowded, noisy and hot, but clean and efficient. Because of the nature of her injury, Donna was seen to right away. Ianto led Tosh to the corner of the waiting room before starting in on the paperwork, and Jack began to pace. His mind kept re-playing Donna, her red hair splayed out on the garage floor. What could he have done to prevent it? Why wasn't he faster, stronger, better? He huffed to himself. Why wasn't he the Six Million Dollar Man?

His eyes searched out Ianto, always coming back to him. Ianto was bent practically in half over a clipboard, filling out Donna's insurance information, his long fingers gripping the pen and the very tip of his pink tongue jutting out of the corner of his mouth. Jack slowed in his pacing and drank in the sight: the sweep of Ianto's eyelashes, the tiny lock of hair that curled around his ear, the flex of his shoulders as he went back and forth over the form, the tautness of his thigh as he used it for a table. He'd almost never seen that again.

Ianto paused, looked up and smiled briefly. Jack felt the awful tension coiled in his gut loosen, just slightly.

He paced for a few hours, pausing briefly only when Ianto brought back some food and water bottles for them. He'd forgotten how hungry he was, his roadside snack fading to memory. Tosh didn't move from her seat. Ianto finished the paperwork and sat down next to her, offering his shoulder, but she didn't take it. Jack turned to start up the corridor one more time when a doctor appeared at the end of it. He looked quickly around the waiting room. They'd been there the longest, and it had cleared out quite a bit as the night went on.

"Toshiko," Jack said quietly. "I see the doctor coming."

Tosh started violently, coming out of her reverie and almost sliding off the hard plastic chair. Ianto caught at her elbow, steadying her, and she allowed it for a moment before shaking him off, her jaw set. Jack exchanged a look with Ianto over the top of her head.

"Dr. Sato?" The doctor stopped in front of them and consulted his clipboard, as if he needed to ascertain that they were indeed Donna Noble's party.

Tosh stood there mutely, eyes wide. Jack knew just what she was seeing, and he shifted his feet, shrugging off the specter of a dusty back alley in Ghana. He took a step forward. "This _is_ Dr. Sato, and I am Dr. Harkness and this is Nurse Jones. What can you tell us about Donna?"

The doctor blinked down at his clipboard, long eyelashes fluttering. Once upon a time, Jack would have found the sight irresistible. But now . . . _God, he's young. Or am I just getting old?_

"Brain injuries like these are notoriously difficult to pin down," he began. He had a pleasant voice, a British-schooling accent with a gentle reminder of an Indian childhood, but Jack just wanted him to get to the point. "There was some swelling in her brain, but it has gone down now. We've also stopped the bleeding. When she wakes up," and a spasm went through Tosh at that. _When, not if._ Jack reached out a steadying arm to her, and this time she took it, clinging tightly. The doctor continued, unnoticing, "there may be some changes. We can't say for sure until it happens. The brain is still too much of a mystery." He clenched his fist, as if personally affronted that Donna's brain hadn't revealed all its inner workings to him. "She could experience anything from aphasia to memory loss, short or long term, to waking up same as always. And these conditions could very well fade over time."

"You seem quite certain that Donna will indeed awaken," Ianto said, shooting a quick glance at Tosh.

"I'm optimistic, yes. She's breathing on her own, and never lost her ability to breathe. The swelling in the brain went down relatively easy, as far as these things go. We've moved her out of surgery and placed her at the end of the row in the Intensive Care Ward. If you would like to see her, Dr. Sato?"

Tosh nodded vigorously. "Ye-es." She coughed, cleared her throat. "Yes. Please." Jack exchanged another look with Ianto over the top of her head.

"Cheers, Tosh," Ianto said quietly, and bent to kiss her forehead. 

Jack watched him over his shoulder as he helped Tosh, still shaking a bit, down the hall after their doctor. Ianto made his way to the bank of payphones along the far wall, and Jack felt a stab of guilt. He was probably calling Martha and Smith, checking in on how the aftermath of Saxon's demise was playing out, or else calling Donna's family. He vaguely remembered stories of her grandfather; the two of them sounded very close.

Their doctor pushed open wide doors to another hall, and Ianto was blocked from sight. The doctor tied on a face mask and indicated that Jack and Tosh should, too. Tosh's breath was coming a little fast, and Jack gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Donna was lying in a bed at the end of a row of beds in Intensive Care. Each bed was separated from the hallway by long curtains, but that did nothing to block the sounds. The first curtain hid someone whimpering in pain, the next contained labored, rattling breathing. Worse, though was the dead silence at the next bed. Everything was clean and sterile, and fans kept up a complicated venting system. Jack's eyes roamed over the tubes and pipes, an attempt to keep one patient's possibly contagious germs from infecting another's, and frowned. The face masks were a good idea.

Their doctor, and he should have asked Ianto if he had caught the man's name, pulled back the final curtain. Tosh gave a muffled cry. Donna lay there, pale and weak, and about half her head was shaved. A large bandage was wrapped around her whole head. Jack led Tosh to the bed, tears soaking her face mask, and the doctor tactfully pulled the curtains closed.

Tosh laid a shaky finger against Donna's cheek, reached down and picked up her right hand. Jack blinked his eyes several times, trying to clear the image of Ianto lying in their bed in Ghana, his body bruised and broken.

"Donna's going to look very punk when she wakes up," he said gruffly. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "That's one hell of a haircut."

Tosh managed a weak laugh. He put his arms around her and she buried her face briefly in his shirt and then pulled back. "Your shirt's a mess," she said. She took a deep, calming breath. "Thank you, Jack, for getting us out of there."

Jack had to hide his wince. He should have done so much more. He had needed Donna to free him, and now look at Donna. Something must have shown in his eyes, because Tosh began to shake her head. "No, Jack. Not. Your. Fault."

"Tosh –"

"Anyhow," she cut him off. "I'm going to stay here. You should find Smith, get him to get you a room somewhere, and take a bath. You stink."

"You're not exactly smelling of roses yourself, Toshiko." He gave her a small smile, forgetting that she couldn't see it.

"Donna doesn't mind. Go on, Jack. I'll call you when she wakes up. Now go." She gave him another small hug and then pushed him towards the curtains. He looked back at her before he let the curtain fall. She was settling into the chair at the head of the bed and her focus was only on Donna.

Jack's stride quickened as he left Intensive Care. He needed, he needed – he rounded the corner back into the waiting room and spotted Ianto hanging up a phone. He crossed the room quickly.

"Jack! How did she look – ?" Ianto began, turning towards him.

"Come with me," Jack hissed, looking around. The room wasn't crowded, and people weren't paying attention to them, but he still didn't grab Ianto's hand, just bade him follow with the force of his gaze. He'd passed a supply closet, he knew it.

"I spoke to Donna's grandfather," Ianto said, wrinkling his forehead at his actions, but following him regardless. "And also to Martha. She's going to be awhile with the authorities. John Smith is surprisingly helpful there. She also gave me the address of a hotel near here; they'll be expecting us. One of Smith's –"

Jack cut him off by the simple expedient of shoving him into the supply closet.

"What the hell, Jack?!" Ianto exclaimed, turning to face him as Jack pulled the flimsy door shut behind them. There wasn't a light bulb, but light seeped in from the slats in the door.

Jack fell to his knees and buried his face in Ianto's midsection, his arms circling him and holding him close. "I just – I just –" he mumbled against Ianto, and turned his face to mouth at his crotch. "I need."

God, he was so predictable, answering every fear with sex, but then he looked up through his lashes and found Ianto staring back down at him and a shiver went through him. Because Ianto understood this language, in all its crassness and immediacy and physicality, that it was all those things, but so much more. It was a sonnet and a declaration and sweetness, and made sense when those words would fall flat and meaningless. Because how could he _say_ life and love and forever when he could show them and feel them to his core?

He almost sobbed. God, he'd come so close to losing Ianto again. Ianto's fingers were in his hair now, his hand lifted Jack's chin. "It's alright, Jack. It's alright."

Jack fumbled at Ianto's belt with less grace and finesse than he prided himself on, but Ianto didn't seem to mind. His cock was half-hard when Jack pulled it up and out and immediately began to suck on the head. Ianto leaned back against the shelves, full of cleaning supplies, the same the world over, despite the unfamiliar language on the bottles. Jack shifted on his knees, crowding closer to Ianto, shoving him farther back, and a shelf rattled.

He pulled at Ianto's pants and trousers, forcing them farther down. They were damp with sweat and on the manky side, but probably ten times better than his own after the past few days. He put it out of his head, and drew more of Ianto's cock into his mouth, nudging into his throat. He was slurping a bit now, and Ianto started a low hum of encouragement.

"That's right, Jack, that's good, that's – unghhhh – God, your mouth, oh please –"

Jack pulled off with a smirk, and Ianto groaned, and then moaned as Jack leaned forward again to lap at his balls, then moved his tongue over the base of his shaft, and licked slowly all along its length. Ianto buried his fingers in Jack's hair again and pulled him in closer. The scent of Ianto filled his nostrils as he began to pull his cock back into his mouth. Ianto was hard and leaking and Jack ran his tongue over the slit, spreading pre-come along his shift as he sucked him gently down. Ianto gave several encouraging tugs, and Jack raised his eyes to him.

Ianto's eyes were huge and black with desire and lack of light, but Jack could clearly see what was in them and he paused for a moment, Ianto's cock lying heavy and full on his tongue. There was history in that look, the weight of their shared past, the mistakes and the triumphs; and there was the future there, too, time stretching out in front of them to be explored, together. But what Jack wanted most, right at that moment, was Ianto now, alive and burning with desire. He winked up at him, as literally cocky a grin as he could manage, and almost laughed as he deep throated him, sucking him harder and harder as his hands gripped Ianto's arse hard enough to leave a mark. Ianto lost it, throwing his head back and coming with a guttural moan. Jack sucked each bit down, swallowing loudly and licking the cock clean until Ianto was whimpering above him.

Jack stood up shakily, knees creaking, and helped Ianto pull his pants and trousers back up. They both leaned against the shelves a moment, trying to catch their breath. After a minute, Ianto reached over and kissed his neck. "Do you want – ?"

Jack kissed him on the nose. "No. I just wanted you."

***

Ianto turned off the water and dipped an experimental toe into the sunken bath. It was huge, almost like a Jacuzzi, but just flat water, no jets of air. Pity, that. Still, they were lucky to get this room, in another one of Smith's family friend's hotels, this one located near the hospital. Tosh was staying with Donna for the rest of the night, sitting curled up in the guest chair, and Martha and Smith himself had rooms down the hall from this one. Everyone was as settled as they could be, for the night at least. Ianto checked his watch. Or the morning. Ianto wanted to flood their rooms with flowers or _something_ to show his appreciation. He'd have to ponder that after a long sleep.

Ianto began to strip out of his dusty clothes. He wandered back out into the room to hang up his shirt. Not that he could wear again without a good washing, but old habits die hard. Jack was sprawled out on the bed, lying horizontal with his feet hanging off the edge. He was also snoring. Ianto debated letting him stay there, but then the stench reached his nose.

"Jack," he said in a firm voice, and gave his leg a shake. "Wakey-wakey."

" _Wakey-wakey_?" Jack groaned. "Have we gone back in time?"

"To before you smelled like an open grave? Not yet." Jack cracked an eye at him and he held out his hand. "Come on, you're getting stench all over the bed. And I've drawn bath water." He waited for the inevitable response, and sure enough – 

"Did you use a blue crayon?"

Rolling his eyes was just a reflex now. Jack grinned up at him, and finally seemed to notice Ianto's proffered hand. "Hey!" he exclaimed, gripping Ianto around the forcep and sitting up. "You're half-undressed already!"

"And I'd like to get all the way there." He hauled Jack to his feet, and the other man took a staggering step forward. Ianto immediately slid an arm around his shoulders, heedless of the smell. "Lean on me, Jack."

"I'm not hurt or anything," Jack grumbled, trying to stand up straight.

"You don't have to be hurt in order to lean on me," Ianto said. Jack looked utterly exhausted, the lines around his eyes exaggerated by the dirt and dust on his face. Ianto liked the lines around his eyes, feeling that they demonstrated a good sense of humor, whereas Jack hated the lines in his own forehead, as they just made him look like a worrier.

"You're my knight in shining armor," Jack said, but he hooked his arm around Ianto's waist, thumb sliding below the waistband of his trousers and Jack's fingers splayed on Ianto's bare back. He gave a low whistle of admiration when they stumbled into the bathroom and he spotted the sunken bath. "That –"

"Yup. But you're going to rinse off in the shower stall first. No dirt in the bath."

"Methinks you are not fully versed in the purpose of baths, kind sir," Jack protested, a twinkle in his eye.

"And _I_ think you won't discover the joys of shared baths if you come in smelling like that."

Jack barked a laugh, but began to doff his clothes. Ianto watched him as he fumbled with his own belt and trousers. It was the least sexy strip-tease either had ever accomplished, but Ianto could still feel Jack's eyes on him as he settled into the hot bath. It smelled like roses, not his first choice or his tenth, but the only option available. Jack was already in the shower. Ianto took a deep breath.

"Jack," he said, loudly enough to be heard over the falling water. "Do you want to tell me what happened with Lucy Saxon?"

Jack didn't say anything for a minute. Ianto craned his neck to look into the shower. The curtain was translucent, and he could make out Jack's fuzzy outline, scrubbing shampoo into his hair. Ianto looked back down at the clear water covering him. He could let it go. They'd been through enough, and Donna was still a major worry, pressing in on them. He'd never been one to demand things. But . . . he glanced back up at the shower as the water stopped. Jack stepped out from behind the curtain, skin glistening, droplets of water chasing themselves down his broad chest, his muscled thighs. Ianto felt the familiar stirring in his heart and in his groin.

"Lucy Saxon was completely mad," Jack said, his wet feet slapping on the tiles as he made his way to the bath. "I take it you saw her body?"

Ianto nodded. Waves rocked the water as Jack climbed into the bath with him.

"Harold Saxon said he tried to cure her of an addiction to opium, but he just made matters much worse, and in the end," Jack settled against the back of the bath with a loud sigh. "In the end," he repeated, "he killed her, but not before she could kill him."

There was a lot he wasn't saying. Ianto could taste ghosts in the air around them. But it had been a hellishly long couple of days and when he placed his hand on Jack's bicep, he could feel the throbbing tension in the muscle. "Here," he said. "Lean forward."

It was awkward and uncomfortable, but just for a minute before he settled himself behind Jack and picked up the bottle of shampoo. "Yeeeeeeeeah," Jack breathed out the moment Ianto began massaging his scalp.

Ianto could feel the tension leak out of the other man as he washed and rinsed Jack's hair. Suds floated on the surface of the bath like little islands of worries, and Ianto ran his fingers through a few, breaking them up. Jack leaned back and rested his wet head on Ianto's shoulder and pressed his lips briefly to Ianto's neck.

"I was so worried about you," he said suddenly, his voice sounding strangely high-pitched in the bathroom acoustics.

Ianto flexed his left leg. It was always going to hurt a bit. "I was worried about _you_ ," he admitted. _I was worried I wouldn't be able to find you. I was worried I wouldn't be able to help you. I was worried I'd never see you again, hold you like this, think ridiculous thoughts of forever when I look in your eyes._ He concentrated on watching Jack's chest rise and fall beneath his splayed fingers.

"So . . . we've discovered we're a couple of worrywarts," Jack snorted.

Ianto smiled briefly and pressed a kiss into his hair. "There are worse things we could be."

A comfortable silence settled over the bathroom. Ianto watched Jack's eyelids droop closed. "Jack," he murmured. "The water's going to get cold."

"Mr. Practical," Jack mumbled back. "I'm sleepy."

"Then get up and I'll take you to bed." Ianto slid his arms beneath Jack's shoulders and gave him a nudge. Jack grumbled and huffed and rose on wobbly legs. Ianto stood up slowly, ignoring the twinge in his leg.

"Hey," Jack said, and Ianto met his eyes. Not for the first time, he marveled at how blue they were, and how they could look at him with such warmth. They were narrowed slightly now, though. "Hey," he said again, "if your leg is hurting, you tell me. No secrets, remember?"

Ianto sighed. Bath water splashed as he took a step forward and kissed the other man. "Jack," he whispered against his lips, "my leg is always going to hurt. You are always going to feel guilty about the people you know you just CANNOT save. These are the facts of us. So there, now they're acknowledged. They don't have to control everything."

Jack was staring at him, and Ianto couldn't blame him. He didn't think he'd ever been so blunt about something like that. "Okay," Jack said slowly. "I can get behind that." His solemn expression vanished suddenly, replaced by a blinding Jack-grin. "Now take me to bed."

They stumbled, sleek and wet, into the bedroom and fell ungracefully into the bed. Ianto reached for the covers, but Jack stopped him with a look and Ianto had to swallow hard. Jack might be dead tired, but he wasn't dead. Ianto fumbled in the nightstand, looking for the tube he'd tossed into the drawer earlier. When he looked back at Jack, his eyes were already closed.

"Jack?" he asked. "We don't –"

"No," Jack yawned. "I know that. But I want to fall asleep with you inside me. I need to know –" He cracked open one eye. "Come on, Ianto."

"Okay." Ianto nodded. "Stretch out."

Jack rolled onto his side, and Ianto lay down behind him. They'd done this so many times, he knew Jack's body better than his own – where to touch him for maximum pleasure, when to fuck him hard, when to be tender, how to make him come so hard he blanked out, how to say a simple ‘I love you' with just a touch. His fingers stretched him open, guided himself inside until he could look down and see one being where before there were two. Jack let out a breathy moan when he began to move, slowly rocking forward and back, but never moving too far away. Ianto snaked an arm beneath Jack's body and gripped Jack's cock. Jack might have been falling asleep, but his cock was awake and eager and already leaking pre-come. Ianto slid his fingers up and down along the velvety skin, hot to the touch and still damp from their bath. Ianto spread the fingers of his other hand across Jack's hip, holding him while he thrust into him. He didn't hold back his own moans. He had Jack back, when he could have lost him. Jack was whole, uninjured. He was so lucky, and he didn't even believe in luck. He tugged at Jack's cock, squeezing it just the way Jack liked, and nibbled on Jack's earlobe. Jack came with a groan, hot and sticky over Ianto's fingers. 

Ianto let out a shaky breath. He was still rock hard, completely sheathed in Jack's welcoming body. "Jack," he grunted, "you asleep?"

"Nggh," came the response.

Ianto shifted his arm, the one beneath Jack's body, and moved his hand over Jack's stomach. Jack had smooth, hairless skin, and Ianto liked to trace the outline of the muscles, gently tickling.

"Mrfggle," Jack mumbled into his pillow, his mouth upturning slightly.

"Yeah, there's that," Ianto replied. He was starting to sweat with his exertions, even as slow as he was moving. It felt so good to go so slow, as if time had stopped and it was just him and Jack and this exquisite tightness and heat wrapped around them. As if he had all the time in the world to explore the sensations of friction, skin rubbing against skin, nerve endings on fire. Jack's broad back and neck filled his view and he gave into the urge to lick that skin and nip at it with his teeth, just grazing across. His hands gripped Jack around the waist and chest, pulling Jack close to him as he thrust in, deeper, deeper, deeper until he couldn't possibly move, there was no way they could ever be separated again. He couldn't stop kissing Jack, wet, slippery kisses along his neck. His breath came in ragged gasps between kisses and he thought for sure he would explode when Jack mumbled a sleepy, "M'Ianto," and pushed desultorily back against him. Ianto came so hard his vision blanked.

When he blinked his eyes open a few moments later, Jack was still there, still a solid weight in his arms, still a hot slick presence around him. They were still together. He laughed in sheer wonder, for just a second, and Jack made a little noise that Ianto interpreted to mean "I love you."

He kissed Jack's neck again, nuzzling the soft skin beneath his chin, and as sleep overtook him, he made a silent vow to the man in his arms. There was no way they would ever be separated again.

Epilogue:  
THE ATLANTIC

Water lapped gently at the side of _Time Machine_ and a slight breeze ruffled Ianto's hair and cooled the sweat on his skin. The sun sparkled and danced on the ocean, the salty air smelled fresh and clean, and somewhere overhead, a bird cried. It was absolutely perfect. Or would have been, had Ianto not been suffering from seasickness.

He turned and wretched over the side of the boat for what felt like the hundredth time since they'd left Colombia.

The sailing idea had sounded like an utter lark in Cartagena. _Everything_ sounded good in Cartagena – like a joyous beat had infused the city, some nameless tune that residents and visitors alike couldn't help but sway to as they moved amongst the markets and churches, restaurants and docks. Ianto envied his sister her life there with Rhys from the moment he and Jack had stepped off the plane, but no more so than right at this very moment. Cartagena, after all, did not _move_.

The wedding had been a blur of wine, as "all the best weddings are" – Jack, murmuring in his ear, pulling him into a dark corner. The sound of the mariachi band, the enthusiastic singing by the other wedding guests mixed with the exuberant cacophony of dozens of other parties in the city center and turned all of Cartagena into one big open-air celebration. Ianto's cries joined the whoops and hollers of hundreds of others when Jack touched him and kissed him.

Half an hour later, Gwen had grinned at their disheveled appearances and made a sly joke to make her brother and priest husband blush. Jack, of course, had roared with laughter, and done her one better with "the one about the bride, the bathtub, and the apple corer." And somehow, that had let into Rhys captaining The Love Boat, which had in turn led to the idea Ianto was currently vomiting over.

"The two of you deserve a nice, relaxing holiday," Gwen had declared. "Why not go sailing? Remember how we used to take that little dinghy out to Flat Holm when we were kids, Ianto?"

The only problem was Cardiff Bay was no wide open ocean. And besides which, Ianto thought dully, wiping his mouth again, since when had his and Jack's little adventures ever gone smoothly?

"Skipper Jones!" Jack's bellow sounded from the rear of the boat. "You will never guess what delicacy your captain has provided to tempt your palate!"

He was even whistling, the cheerful tune growing closer as Jack picked his surefooted way to the starboard railing. Ianto had to grit his teeth against another wave of nausea.

"I daresay it starts with an 'f' and ends with an 'h.'"

"This is a _special_ fish, Ianto!" Jack insisted. He stopped out of arm's reach of Ianto, a fact which was noted by the grey-faced Skipper Jones.

"It's still fish. I'm going to bed."

After five days of his attitude, Jack didn't try to stop him, and Ianto tried not to mind.

It was stuffy in the cabin, hot and close, and Ianto wasn't the least bit tired. It was 4 o'clock in the afternoon, after all. He pulled out his watch to check the time. Well, it was 4 o'clock _somewhere_. His internal clock was shot to hell, and he was even having difficulty determining what direction they were headed in. It was all that water, playing tricks on him. He toed off his sneakers (Jack went barefoot on the boat), placed them carefully in the bin marked 'non-garbage' bolted to the deck, and flopped onto his bunk.

The bunks were a sore issue. Jack declared them to be authentic. Ianto declared them to be too small for two grown men. To Jack, that read as a challenge – one that he hadn't been able to meet yet, much to his frustration, but Ianto had no intention of combining vomit and sex.

He could hear Jack moving around topdeck, probably cleaning and gutting the fish, then setting up their little grill. If Ianto was lucky, he'd keep down some flatbread later. He was beginning to loath the stuff.

A couple of seagulls called loudly to each other outside the porthole, sounding like nothing so much as an old married couple. _Married_.

The news had reached Cartagena the morning they shipped out: New York State had legalized gay marriage. New York, the final destination Jack had picked a few days previously, circling Manhattan on his map of the U.S. Eastern Seaboard. If he was completely honest with himself, Ianto could trace his seasickness to the message from Martha that had followed – just five words, but they twisted in Ianto's gut – _Do I hear wedding bells?_

They were already married, or as good as. Did they really need rings and paperwork? Neither one had much in the way of property or valuables. Ianto had already planned on broaching the idea of a civil partnership to Jack, for things like hospital visits (which they had way too many of) and division of assets (though he couldn't see Gwen fighting with Jack over his record collection, which had been languishing in storage for the past two years). But marriage…

Ianto hadn't thought of marriage in relation to him since Lisa had died. That had been his shot, and it was finished. Only now he could be a husband, and Jack could be a husband to him. Jack was technically a resident of New York, working abroad. And after fire and death, beatings and recoveries, kidnappings and reunions, they could give their union the most sacred of symbolic gestures.

Jack hadn't mentioned it. Five days of sailing, and nothing about what could await them in New York.

Ianto leaned over the side of the bunk and dry-heaved.

"I was going to see if you wanted some tasty crackers," Jack said from the doorway, "but something's telling me you'd say no."

Ianto grunted in reply and wiped his mouth.

"You should drink some Gatorade," Jack said critically. "Replace some of what you've lost."

"Brilliant, Jack. Did you find us some Gatorade, in Colombia, and pack it?"

"Nope." Jack didn't even look embarrassed. "Packing is your forte."

Ianto stared at him for a long moment. "You're unbelievable," he said at last. "This is my fault now?" His voice was rising in pitch. He hated how that made him sound.

"Come on, Ianto! You know I didn't mean anything by it!"

Of course he hadn't. When Jack wanted to cut you to the bone, he didn't hold back. Any other time, though, he just didn't mean it. And today it made Ianto irrationally angry. He lay back in his bunk, threw an arm over his eyes and counted to ten in his head.

"Uh, Ianto?"

"I'm calming down, Jack."

"I know a great way to calm you down."

Ianto sighed. He didn't even bother to monitor his word choice anymore, not after all this time with Jack. Why bother? Jack could make the most innocuous statement an innuendo.

"I'm not interested in your method. I'm vomiting all the time, remember?"

"You're not vomiting right now."

Ianto felt a hand touch his foot, and grudgingly had to admire Jack's tenacity. Though Jack had gone almost a week without getting laid, so part of that was just general horniness.

"You're going to burn your fish," Ianto said.

"You're more important than a fish."

"I should bloody well hope so."

"Hey, I was being romantic there. You should be swooning."

"I'm already lying down." The hand was caressing his ankle. It felt…nice. "You can keep doing that."

Another hand joined the first one, gently kneeding the calf muscles in his bad leg. Jack knew just how to touch him there. He won a lot of arguments with leg massages. It was hardly fair. But it did feel good. Ianto couldn't prevent his lips from curving up, or the slight purring noise that rumbled in his chest.

"Ianto?" Jack whispered.

"Mmmunfffff."

"I'll do all the work."

Jack's hands were now at the hem of Ianto's board shorts, a ridiculous purchase that Jack had made in Cartagena when Ianto was hungover, and which Ianto was only ever going to wear on the boat, with no other witnesses around. Jack was wearing linen trousers that should have looked ridiculous, but didn't on him. It figured.

"I don't know," Ianto hedged. He was actually getting a little bit interested. He'd daydreamed the scenario enough times, after all – him and Jack, sailing off into the sunset together. And of course there would be lots of sex.

"Whatever you want, dear," Jack said in that sing-song voice he used when he was up to something. His fingers slid under the shorts, up and up to squeeze Ianto's thighs.

"Ooof. Take these damn things off me if you're going to keep doing that," Ianto commanded, and Jack leapt to obey. Jack could be malleable, if the situation called for it, of course. Ianto's stupid board shorts were soon tossed onto the deck, and Jack was maneuvering Ianto's legs, trying to squeeze himself into a kneeling position in between them. Ianto had to choke back a laugh when Jack banged his elbow on the sloped wall of the boat.

"I'm going to forgive your mocking little chuckle, but only because you went commando," Jack muttered.

Ianto rolled his eyes. He'd dispensed with the underwear because he hadn't wanted to try washing any onboard the boat. He'd save his few pairs for when they were back in sight of land. Jack gave him an appreciative leer, leaned down, and sucked the head of his not-very-hard cock into his mouth.

There were certain things Ianto had not taken into account when having his daydream of sailing with Jack. One had been the seasickness. And another was the fact that the entire structure that contained them was always moving – forwards, yes, but also up and down. Sometimes rather unexpectedly. A vicious wave pushed him up and in, shoving his cock into the side of Jack's cheek and bringing him into way too close of contact with Jack's shiny American teeth. Which were sharp.

Ianto yelped in pain, Jack choked and fell off the bunk, grasping for purchase and accidentally hitting Ianto's bad leg in the process. Ianto's spit-slick cock fell with an undignified little plop against his thigh, mainly flaccid. Ianto was surprised it wasn't bleeding from Jack's teeth, but he could barely spare it a thought as pain lanced up his bum leg and took his breath away.

"Ianto!" Jack scrambled to his feet as the boat slowly righted itself.

"Don't mind me," Ianto said through grit teeth. "You just almost bit my cock off." His leg throbbed with pain.

"That was clearly my plan. Much easier to walk around with your cock in my mouth all day if I've separated it from your body." Ianto snorted a laugh, and Jack grinned, laying a hand gently on his leg. "I'm sorry about your leg. Can I get you a couple pills?"

He only took them rarely anymore, hadn't taken any since India. The poppy plantation and all that had happened there was a pretty big deterrent to taking any form of drug.

"No. No, just keep doing that."

He settled back against his pillow as Jack continued stroking his leg. Ianto loved Jack's hands. They were a father's hands: large and square, strong and capable, calloused but gentle. The thought disquieted him, fatherhood to marriage to New York. _Again_.

"On second thought, maybe I will take a pill."

Jack's hand stilled on his leg, loosely circling his calf.

"Okay," he said slowly. "I know I may not be the most observant man, but something is bothering you. Spill."

Ianto rolled his eyes, deflecting from his pounding heart. "Of course there is. You kept pushing for sex, and when we finally tried for it, I almost lost my cock."

"No it's more than that," Jack mused. "You've been irritable, vomiting, picky about your food… Ianto. Are you pregnant?"

Ianto swatted his hand away. "Oh, that's funny, Jack."

Jack grinned at him, but the light didn't touch his eyes. Ianto looked away. There was no way to broach the subject. Ianto knew Jack had been married before, to a woman about one million years ago, or twenty, and it hadn't lasted long. It had ended badly. Of course Jack wouldn't want to go through it again. But still, how much of a coward would Ianto be if he never even mentioned it?

"I talked to Tosh," Jack said suddenly, and Ianto blinked at the non sequitur. "In Cartagena, before we shipped out. She said Donna had asked her about one of her primary school teachers. So, a bit of progress."

Ianto's cheeks colored. Jack had thought he was brooding over what had happened to Donna? If only he was a good enough person to have that be the case.

"You have to know I would never abandon you," Jack continued obliviously. "If you forgot me, I'd wait for you."

He gave Ianto a soppy smile, his eyes partly closed as he leaned in for a kiss. Ianto pushed him back.

"God, Jack, do you want to marry me or not?"

"Huh?" He looked almost comical, blinking wide-eyed like an owl, and Ianto just snapped, everything rushing out.

"I know you love me, I'm not an idiot. You don't make it through the things we've been through and still stay together if you don't love each other. I'm not _brooding_ about that. But you chose New York, you chose it, and you haven't even mentioned marriage. Not once. And yeah, right, that bothers me, I admit it, so are you happy now?"

Jack looked like he'd been hit with a two-by-four. Ianto took a grim satisfaction from it. He almost never lost his cool, never talked for so long without interruption. It was impossible, living with Jack. He'd finally found a way to shut him up.

"I – I hadn't thought about it," Jack said quietly, running a hand through his hair, and something inside Ianto froze and cracked. "I didn't think you would want to, so I just…"

"Why wouldn't I want to, Jack?"

Jack flinched. "You didn't say anything at Gwen's wedding!" he protested.

"It wasn't an option then," Ianto shot back. "Besides, I was drunk!"

"So, what now? You want us to get married?" Jack's voice rose in pitch on his final word.

"Well I don't know, Jack!" Ianto threw his hands in the air. "This is a joint decision. You can't just leave it to me."

"I'm not _asking_ you; I just want to know your opinion!" Jack fired off, and immediately regretted his word choice, if his face was anything to go by.

"You're **not** asking me to marry you? Right. Glad we got that sorted."

"Ianto!"

"No, no it's fine. Good to know. I'm just going to grab my pillow here and go sleep on deck–"

Jack stopped him by the simple expedient of slamming him back down onto the bunk and thrusting his tongue down Ianto's throat. For such a big man, he was surprisingly light on top of Ianto, always mindful of just how much Ianto could take.

"You should know by now," Jack managed between kisses, rough stubble and slurping lips, "that I'll give you whatever you want. You want to get married?" His fingers dug into Ianto's scalp, causing him to hiss with pain even as his head fell back, exposing his throat. "Then we'll get married." Jack's mouth was on his neck, sucking sloppy kisses down to his collarbone.

"I don't want us to get married just because I said we should!" He pushed Jack's head up, grunting with the effort. He hadn't eaten enough in days, and it was starting to take its toll on him. "I don't even know if I _want_ us to get married."

Jack groaned and sat back on the bunk. It was barely large enough, and Ianto squirmed back against the wall to give them room, sparing a glance for his ugly board shorts, still discarded on the floor. They might be hideous, but he felt horribly exposed without them while in an argument. "I don't get it," Jack said.

"I can't ever say no to you, Jack," Ianto confessed, drawing in a shaky breath. Jack raised an eyebrow.

"But you wanted me to ask you to marry me?"

Ianto looked away. That wasn't it, not really. He was perfectly capable of asking _Jack_ to marry him, after all. He wasn't a five-year-old. He even had a successful proposal under his belt.

"I…I wanted you to want to."

The boat rocked gently from side to side, and gulls cawed overhead. Inside the cabin all was quiet, until Jack cleared his throat.

"I think about you all the time." He moved carefully, slowly up the bunk, stopping when he was straddling Ianto's hips. "Whenever we're apart, all I can think about is how I have to get back to you." He ran his thumb along Ianto's jawline, curled his fingers into the short hairs at the nape of Ianto's neck. "In my mind, we've been married since that day on the Plass, when you said you would come with me."

Ianto kissed him, delicately at first, quickly growing more heated. Jack went with it, melting against him. Dampness pricked at Ianto's eyes, and he blinked it away. _This_ was how they discussed things, at least the important things. Jack didn't shut up except when he let his body do the talking. The rest of it was a smokescreen as often as not. The promises he made with the swipe of his tongue, the press of flesh against flesh, those were the ones he kept.

Ianto's hands slid easily up and under Jack's shirt, pulling it off and tossing it aside, breaking the kiss for a moment. Jack swooped in and kissed his neck before helping him out of his shirt. There was a glint in his eyes that Ianto recognized, that caused his heart to beat a little faster and his breath to sound a bit more ragged. Jack gripped him around the waist and pulled, managing to keep them both on the bunk this time, Jack beneath him.

Jack gave a little crow of laughter that changed into a moan when Ianto slid his hands into Jack's pants. He wasn't wearing any underwear, either, and he was already fully hard. He'd probably been ready to go for the past couple of days. Ianto squeezed his cock and Jack bucked up into the touch. Ianto released him to kneel over him and yank his pants down and off before dropping on top of Jack.

"Ianto," Jack breathed against Ianto's cheek, into his mouth as Ianto slipped his tongue inside. Jack's cock was leaking against his stomach as they rutted against each other. Ianto's fingers slicked Jack's pre-come over them both, smearing pre-come along their cocks. Neither of them were going to last long. Jack was hot and heavy in his hand and Ianto's other hand slid in the sweat along Jack's hipbone. Jack was still mumbling into his kisses, obscenities in languages he had picked up along the way, his wide, lust-dark eyes staring into Ianto's.

It was the same as it had always been between them – hot and powerful and overwhelming and theirs.

Jack's eyes slid shut when he came, a gasping groan escaping his lips like it'd been punched out of him. He continued to thrust helplessly up into Ianto's grasp, breathing heavily through the aftershocks. Ianto was so caught up in the noises he made, the sheen of his skin, the feel of his body beneath him that his own orgasm took him by surprise.

"Jack!" he moaned, collapsing on top of him, and Jack's body cradled him, his fingers stroking him through the orgasm until he was wrung dry.

They lay there, pressed together and breathing in time with each other. After a few minutes, Ianto began to mouth along Jack's chest. He tasted of salt – sweat and the sea. He tasted amazing.

"We'll flip a coin," Jack said solemnly. "Heads, we get married in New York. Tails, we don't."

"That seems awfully capricious," Ianto murmured against his chest.

"Did you want to argue about it more?"

"Not particularly." Ianto leaned over the side of the bunk to grab his board shorts, reached into the pocket and pulled out a coin. It was an American quarter, though he'd never been to the States. He refused to think it was a sign. "Ready?"

"One second." Jack's hand closed over his, pressing the quarter into his flesh, as he leaned in and gave Ianto an open-mouthed kiss. His body was slippery and sticky against Ianto's and his breath tasted of fish and wine. The sunlight through the little round window shone in his hair, touching on more than a few silver strands. And when Jack broke the kiss, grinning broadly with his white American teeth, Ianto could clearly see the laugh lines around his eyes.

He was an impossible creature, the most beautiful Ianto had ever seen, and he didn't need the flip of a coin to tell him that.

He flicked the quarter with his thumbnail, sending it spinning through the air, and pulled Jack back down on top of him.

The coin hit the edge of the bunk and careened off, rolling under the bunk and teetering on its edge before falling with a soft 'plink.' But Ianto and Jack were already busy fitting themselves together.

They'd look at the result in the morning.


End file.
